


Mountain and Sea

by ideallyqualia



Series: UshiShira [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Author's Favorite, Canon Universe, M/M, Minor Kawanishi Taichi/Tendou Satori, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Slow Build, Touch Repulsion, hanakotoba
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 60,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideallyqualia/pseuds/ideallyqualia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The progress of river to ocean shapes its own path, and Shirabu lives in the valley.</p><blockquote>
  <p>Solitary, vast in presence, awe-inspiring — Ushijima Wakatoshi reminds him of a mountain. To many people, he’s an obstacle to overcome; Shirabu knows this. Few people are ever going to reach his height. And it makes them uncomfortable, it’s terrifying, reaching and falling, indescribable, there’s nothing but rock to sky. Towering earth, as much as power can manifest in nature.</p>
  <p>There’s only one thing that can move mountains, and mountains don’t have words for it. Shirabu Kenjirou, first year Shiratorizawa setter, is indescribable in his own way.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shirabu's a first year for this fic, and Ushijima's a second year.
> 
> Part of the blockquote in the summary is mangled from an essay on music (about three words were taken; Ushijima really reminded me of a symphony, ok).
> 
> EDIT: I've been writing this for so long that I forgot that my hcs aren't canon, while some canon info isn't well known, so I have some notes at the end of chapters to differentiate between them.
> 
> LATER EDIT: [take a look at this from](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CubglmsWcAAlKU2.jpg:large) hq s3, this is beautiful and the kind of symbolism i wanted on ushi's part

"This one is your favorite, right?" Someone nudged a book into Shirabu's hands.

Drawn and colored across the hard cover of the dilapidated picture book was an ocean, inked dark in waves, and a dragon flying low over the water. Shirabu didn't bother flipping it open.

"No. It's not. Stop trying to push these books on me, Tomori." Shirabu pushed it back across the table.

"I saw you reading it the other day."

Shirabu raised his arm to swat Tomori away. "I'm a little busy." He hunched over his notebook.

"You've barely done anything lately other than study," Tomori mumbled. He drooped in his chair.

Class was going to start soon. Shirabu had intended to catch a few minutes of reading before class, but Tomori's interruption came with several other distractions from other people. He stiffened and made a long wordless grumble as he looked down at his paper covered desk.

All the time in the world didn't feel like enough for studying for entrance exams. Shirabu forced himself to keep going, but if he didn't have the kind of resolve that didn't let him settle and rest, then he'd continue to stare at his notebooks, falling into a blank despair. He could never let that happen.

A few people gathered around him. "Are you still studying for Shiratorizawa?"

"Yes," Shirabu said in a harsh annoyed syllable.

"Do you study every _day_?"

Shirabu turned his head slightly. "Can't you help me?" he asked Tomori.

Tomori leaned back in his seat, his arms stretching and then folding. "Stop studying."

"No."

"Then no."

Shirabu sat up straight and rubbed at his eyes. He tried to manage a scowl, but nothing deterred anyone.

"What makes you want Shiratorizawa that badly?" someone asked.

Shirabu brushed his hand over his hair.

Shiratorizawa. It was the first high school Shirabu read in a magazine, saw in a newspaper, heard in passing on the radio while on the way to school or on the TV flipping through channels. He saw it alongside the best universities he knew in Japan, and when he was little, he thought it was one at first. When he discovered it was a high school, it felt closer than the far away prospect of university.

Shirabu kept hearing about it, casually, mentioned in the same sentiment of breath as a star, a legend. It was the best and strongest, and it had a nice ring. There was an undeniable authority in its renown.

"If you know what it is, then do I really need to explain?" Shirabu asked.

The questioning student paused. "But it doesn't sound fun."

The announcement of the school bell silenced them and gathered them back in their seats. Shirabu shoved everything away and pulled out his pen and paper, setting himself to school work for the day.

 

* * *

 

Part of the appeal of watching high school volleyball matches was weighing the options of going to the school, and looking over the first and second years and considering them for teammates. They didn't visit games as a team that often, but Shirabu went with some of his club friends, and it became another way to fill up free time and still make it about volleyball. They stood near the rail bars for most of the games instead of sitting, closer to the court action while leaning on the rail.

Shirabu curled his hands on the rail. The cold metal under his fingers, the bright lights from the ceiling, the warm thrum of energy in the audience -- another match was going to start, right in front of where he stood.

"Nishita High and Shiratorizawa," Kawatabi said next to Shirabu. "Shiratorizawa's probably going to win."

"The game hasn't even started," someone else said.

"Just watch."

Shirabu remained silent. He knew who Shiratorizawa was. He deeply knew about it, marked with the twitches of his arms and the low noise of his head telling him to say something, that he knew it better than his friends. Shirabu thought several answers out, stringing them and listening to them in every possible way, but he wasn't satisfied with anything he could say. He decided to ignore them. He slid his eyes to the Shiratorizawa players below, lined along the court for warmup drills.

This was a new year. It was one of the first games of the season, with a fresh set of first years. Even though every team had their own character, something changed each time with new players, every year. The gears will have shifted again by the time Shirabu continued to high school, and next time it could be _because_ of him. Everyone in junior high was starting to think about which school to go to now. He was dead set on Shiratorizawa, and this was the closest he could get to seeing what the newest assembly of Shiratorizawa would bring.

"Have you thought about where you're going to go?" Kawatabi asked Shirabu.

"Shiratorizawa," Shirabu said in a sigh, sinking and resting his weight on the rail.

A teammate right next to him snorted.

"How?"

"When it comes down to it, it takes effort." Shirabu turned his head, lifting it up a little. "If you're not willing to work, then why go to practice at all?"

Shirabu looked away, not bothering to wait for a response. Warmups were ending, and conversations were lulling to watch. Shirabu glanced over both teams. He forgot about some details as he noticed them, how tall Nishita's captain was next to his spiker, the timing of the ball in a server's hands in a practice serve. Shirabu waited to remember. Their numbers blurred by, and he didn't bother picking players out and placing their positions in his head, letting Shiratorizawa take over his attention.

The slam of the ball on the gym floor automatically drew in Shirabu. Some of the spikes and serves were clearly powerful, but Shirabu didn't fix on the average ones. Most of the satisfying spikes came from a first year, #8, consistently strong with steady accuracy -- Ushijima Wakatoshi. He saw him before when he was still in junior high; a rising ace then, and a powerhouse now.

Shirabu could tell that Shiratorizawa was already the favorite to win. He didn't recognize a first year blocker right away, but he was blocking so cleanly and confidently that his red hair burned into Shirabu's memory. Shirabu eventually recognized his blocks as guess blocks from Tendou Satori.

He watched intently, enjoying the flow of the game but still fixing to movements and details isolated from the people behind them. Their setter tossed the ball in the air, and Shirabu didn't realize who was going to spike until Ushijima was jumping, legs bending up and arm folded back. His arm swung, his hand thumping and slamming the ball down. He couldn't frame it in slow motion in his head, but the blur of activity as Ushijima shot down the blockers was incredible, not in the speed but in the anticipation for the moment before the spike, jumping height and timing perfect, muscle tense for the spike. The lights were shining just as much as before, but Shirabu felt a level of dazzling atmosphere that came only from the spike, power beside the brilliant glow of the gym lights overhead.

The ball ripped by the blockers. It was one thing to spike a step ahead of a blocker, but completely blowing them away took a staggering difference in strength, stopping a block in a parodying reversal of it.

Shirabu's eyes widened, filled with the reflection of the ceiling lights, instinctively admiring instead of falling into surprise. His mouth pressed together quietly. Shiratorizawa was easily winning, but Shirabu didn't think it mattered if it was a close tense match or a landslide in points.

"Ushijima," Kawatabi said, flicking his hand on the rail as his face lit up. "That's his name. I only remembered what he looked like."

"Your memory is better than mine," Shirabu lied.

Ushijima Wakatoshi. The name echoed in his head, stretching out as he mumbled to himself, his mouth silently around the shape of his name.

"If Shiratorizawa's just going to win, then why'd we come?" someone asked.

"It's their first game. Might as well."

"Might as well…" Shirabu echoed.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu made his choice. He knew that he wanted to go, and it felt like a natural, instinctive goal to have. If he went, then he would already have a shot at the best colleges in Japan. There was no bad side to it. Aside from the entrance exam.

He was still dedicated to his current team, but his goal was a little isolating. He didn't know anyone else that wanted to study as much as him for the exam.

"Can you help me with the math homework?" Takagi asked.

Shirabu looked up from his desk. "Let me see your paper." He took it without waiting for it to be handed to him. A smooth blank wave of surprise held Takagi's face, but he recovered and crossed his arms.

Takagi wasn't close friends with Shirabu. Everyone in class felt comfortable asking Shirabu for minor help, and Takagi was one of them. Shirabu attracted the most people asking for help, casually, like they were asking him for the time or the name of a store. Most of the time in class it was the only reason someone asked him for something or talked to him, someone who he barely talked to and couldn't consider a friend, but it was neutrally amicable.

Shirabu wasn't gifted with the perfect answer to everything, he wasn't a genius, but practiced persistence brought him into a comfortable amount of capability. He dredged up the problem process from repetition, and he did a problem within a minute from its predictability, checking others with what he already solved. He crossed out a few wrong answers and gave it back.

"Thanks," Takagi said.

Shirabu tried to return to silence, but someone else turned in their seat and leaned over from the side, asking Shirabu for more help. He sighed and accepted it, hiding his irritated frown by leaning over the paper.

He handed it back and pushed his notebook away. There were still a few minutes before class, but he didn't expect to get anything done as they waited for the teacher. He rested his chin in his hands and stared into space.

There were a few months left of junior high. Shirabu spent a little of his free time exercising, but studying for entrance exams took up almost all of his time after school aside from homework. By now the third years had stopped playing on the volleyball team to prepare, and Shirabu was going to cram school. It wasn't as lonely as his friends made it out to be, but it was exhausting and tedious. He was too busy to care about being alone at home afterward and studying in his room. A couple of his friends went to the same cram school he did, but they couldn’t find the time to talk about movies and have substantial conversations.

Shirabu headed to the train station after school to set out for cram school. His backpack was heavy with the extra books, and he dumped his backpack on the floor next to a wall to wait for the train. He leaned against the wall and bent to rest his hands on his knees from the effort.

After a minute, Shirabu stood up. The train still wasn't here yet, but he didn't know how to fill his time in the fifteen minute wait, so he always ended up people watching, sometimes finding the same people in their routine or commute. Businessmen on their way home, an elderly woman walking her dog, the same crowds of schoolchildren in their identical uniforms; Shirabu recognized them. The scores of buildings and plants drew his eye sometimes, but they rarely changed from day to day. The only noticeable difference were flower blooms making slow progress through the season, unfolding or curling back up in small gardens out front of houses or in windows. Shirabu turned his head up to the sky and glanced over a clump of red tulips growing in a window sill.

He stared ahead. He zoned out looking across the street, his vision drifting from the window to a point on a nearby lamppost. A tall head passed by, and he unfocused in a few blinks, resolving a feeling of vague familiarity. Ushijima was walking in front of him, his pace a little fast but still unhurried and seemingly normal to him, his head slightly turning to glance around at the trees in the sidewalk. He carried a backpack himself, and Shirabu guessed that he was returning from school for the day. He wore his Shiratorizawa uniform, the lapels and sleeves of his jacket still neat after a day's work. Shirabu knew what Shiratorizawa's uniform looked like already, but the casual reality of seeing him in person, Ushijima wearing it on the street right in front of him, cemented the sense of recognition in Shirabu. It was him, from tie to toe, Ushijima. Not just on the court, a TV screen, or a magazine page. It was him as his everyday self, without the pretense of a match.

A well of uncertainty bubbled in him, and he hesitated to call out. Ushijima was unapproachable, intimidating, any choice word of detached, almost fearful respect that Shirabu heard about him, even when he was only a first year in his high school career. Shirabu wasn't actually daunted by him, but he was struck with a feeling of preemptive awe. He didn't want to disturb the feeling by doing something embarrassing.

But he already decided he was going to go to Shiratorizawa. Even if he didn't get in and he chose a different school, he had to overcome the inevitability of meeting Ushijima, whether it was beside him or against him. If he couldn't talk to him now, then it would be impossible to be on a team with him. It was better that he did it now, before Ushijima's presence rose so much that Shirabu could barely touch him.

Shirabu steeled himself and tried to wave at him and yell his name. He balked at suddenly lifting his backpack and chasing after him, but Ushijima didn't hear him, and Shirabu ended up running. He lurched to a halt in front of Ushijima, huffing and raising his hand to silently stop him. Ushijima waited for him to regain his breath.

Shirabu raised his head. "Ushijima Wakatoshi?"

Ushijima looked down at him steadily. "Who are you?"

Shirabu straightened, grimacing from his backpack weight shifting again. He smoothed the grimace away to give a nod in greeting. "I'm Shirabu Kenjirou. I'm a third year in junior high." Shirabu let out a heavy breath to completely recover. His lungs felt high in his chest, but it was a satisfying echo of adrenaline from the sprint to catch him. "I'm applying for Shiratorizawa."

"I wish you luck, then." Ushijima moved to step around him.

Shirabu held his hand out. "Wait, I'm not done." He looked up at Ushijima, moving his hand to his forehead to brush his hair away in a pause. The sprint to catch up unsettled his hair in a mess, but Shirabu left it alone after a moment. "I play volleyball at Toyokuro. I'm a setter, and I want to be Shiratorizawa's setter one day."

"You?" Ushijima looked him over, his eyes hovering past Shirabu's face and slowing on his backpack. "Why Shiratorizawa?"

"Why did _you_ pick Shiratorizawa?" Shirabu asked.

Ushijima's eyebrows furrowed. "It's the best high school in the prefecture."

"Then it's obvious. If you know why you chose it, then I shouldn't have to explain."

Shirabu knew he understood, but he guessed that Ushijima didn't think he'd flip the question back on him. Ushijima fell into silence, his mouth settling in a thoughtful line.

"Shiratorizawa's entrance exam isn't easy, and it isn't a place for the weak," Ushijima said after a moment. "Your goal is admirable, but it's not realistic."

"I'm not afraid to take a risk. There's nothing guaranteed about getting into high school or playing volleyball, and I'm prepared for anything that happens from my decisions."

"You sound serious…"

"I'm being completely serious," Shirabu pressed. “More than a promise. I’m going to Shiratorizawa, and I'm sticking with my choice. I won't get scared and back down."

Shirabu heard the screech of the train pulling into the station, and his mouth wavered at the prospect of running again to make it in time. If he left now, he wouldn't have to rush that much. He turned and gave Ushijima a final glance, bowing his head slightly.

"I'm glad I saw you today. Take care, Ushijima-san." Shirabu hurried away, his breathing picking up again to carry the backpack weight.

He made it to a seat and flopped in relief, and he unhooked his arms from the straps to move away and rest comfortably. Shirabu could still feel his heart beating, and he breathed deeply, trying to calm down from running and from meeting Ushijima in person. Shirabu wasn't scared, but bumping into him in the middle of the day was unexpected, and the fatigue in his lungs made him feel light. Shirabu might as well have been scared, because his heart was pounding and tightening his chest.

 

* * *

 

"Are you even going to consider another school?" Tomori asked. He placed his hands on Shirabu's desk, leaning to look him in the eye.

Shirabu didn't look up from his book. He wasn't concentrating that much, either. He wasn't so focused that he was automatically ignoring Tomori, but he didn't want to look at him and see if he was disappointed. "Of course I am."

"I thought about Aobajousai, but I don't think I'll get in." Tomori sighed and returned to a seat, bending to rest his head on the desk.

They were near the end of their lunch, sitting out of their usual seats in class to eat next to each other. They finished eating, and Shirabu had returned to finishing homework so he wouldn't have to do it later, leaving more time for cram school work. The homework for junior high was easy enough that he didn't have to focus too much. Shirabu could do it while half-listening to his friend talk.

"It's too late to start preparing for their entrance exam," Shirabu said.

"...Thanks, Shirabu." Tomori grumbled wordlessly. "But you'd get in, if you wanted. You'll probably get in to Shiratorizawa."

Shirabu wanted to thank him for the compliment, but it felt like an underhanded one, an irritated admission instead of acknowledgment. He thought about it so much that a noticeable amount of time passed, and he couldn't bring it up anymore without telling Tomori that he got lost thinking about it.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu watched as Shiratorizawa continued to nationals at spring high. Ushijima couldn't be their ace when he was just a first year, but his support made him as much of a star as their actual ace, racking up points and dominating attention on the court.

He didn't have time to watch every match. He only flipped through on TV to glance, glimpsing a spike followed by serves and receives. The ball flew back and forth, seesawing with the tension of a battlefield, and Shirabu was so, so tempted to keep watching. Ushijima's heavy, unwavering gaze completed every spike, deepening with the concentration in every serve, and Shirabu felt his chest revive its impression of a balloon.

He convinced himself that it was a a residual reaction from before. He could almost feel his back deaden from the load of books, and the thrum of air into his lungs from running. He twitched from remembering the messy, unimpressive stumble in front of Ushijima. He lifted his glass of water to drink down the memory.

Shirabu turned off the TV and returned to the book on his desk in his room. His desk couldn't hold all the books he needed for school and studying, so he left a pile on the floor next to his desk. The drawer had actual immediate necessities like pencils and different kinds of paper, and a couple of the books he used every day.

Studying gave him a mild feeling of accomplishment. He didn't enjoy doing it, but he liked the feeling of having done it, and it was the reason for his grades and test scores. Now he was really glad that he had a habitual study ethic to carry him.

The brief time after watching TV always distracted Shirabu. He drifted and stared at the page while thinking about something else, anything else for a little while, something to keep him from being bored even though he was working.

Shirabu itched to play volleyball again. He didn't completely base his decision on volleyball, he was confident that Shiratorizawa had a lot to offer him, but volleyball was one of his primary motivations. Shirabu had to remind himself of how great he'd feel when they accepted him, when he stepped into the gym for the first time and onto their practice court, his legs and arms pumping with a perfect burning limberness into his first toss. It was several months away, but still an easily imaginable feeling.

His arms slid on his desk, his head falling and elbows slipping further apart, slipping with his focus and enthusiasm. He pushed his book away and pressed his fingers over his eyes.

Shirabu saw Ushijima when he closed his eyes. He didn't mean to think of him right away, but it was the first thing he thought of when he tried to think of Shiratorizawa. Imagining an entire school didn't bring a sudden rush of familiarity like a person did. Ushijima reminded Shirabu of the kind of power he admired and wanted, and not just physical power - a demanding presence, mental fortitude, stability, composure, everything compact in one firm manifestation of will.

He sighed. He decided that he really needed to sleep.

 

* * *

 

This wasn't Shirabu's first time at Shiratorizawa. He visited once to take a brief tour, and it bolstered his faith in his decision, sealing his determination to go. Shiratorizawa was amazing in every way, with a fully equipped gym, a greenhouse, teaching labs, an archery range, a swimming pool, dorms, and clubrooms the size of classrooms. Shirabu remembered being overwhelmed by Shiratorizawa's size then, feeling lost even with a guide.

This wasn't his first time, but he still felt lost. He had a small map folded in his hands, his other hand tugging a suitcase along, and he was by himself, walking around campus trying to find the dorm building. Classes hadn't started yet. They wouldn't for another few days, but some students hurried around campus already busy preparing for club activities and sports teams. Shirabu watched them run around him as they moved with brisk purposeful speed to the buildings sprawled over different quads, traveling past trees and over paths to their destinations.

Shirabu stopped in front of a square high-windowed building standing between two larger ones, painted white on every wall. Through the large window on the front wall, he could see students shuffling papers inside and setting up chairs. It was small compared to the other buildings, but from a distance, Shirabu barely noticed that it was there at all. He squinted at the sign above the glass door.

It read "Music Building." Shirabu let out a sigh, his breath drawing his shoulders down.

"Do you need some help?"

Shirabu lifted his head. Someone stopped in front of the door in, one hand on the doorknob and another on a handle to a large instrument case.

His eyes flicked to the lawn forming their cluster of buildings. "Do you know where the dorm building is?"

The student pointed to a tall building in the distance. "It's over there. Just before you cross to go to the fields."

Shirabu mumbled and nodded in gratitude, and he left. He navigated his way by the landmark of the dorm building in his sight, walking around other buildings and crossing concrete paths onto the grass lawn. The dorms didn't tower over the other buildings, but he could still see it when he wasn't blocked by another building in his view.

He turned to look up at the tall classroom buildings as he walked. Most of them were orange, but one stood out above the rest in a blue tower that reflected the blue of the sky, shining like rows of glinting mirrors. Everything else was square, including the windows.

He felt relieved when he stepped inside the dorms and established that he was in the right building. Every floor had hallways of rooms and bathrooms, the walls plain but still new in bright colors. Shirabu climbed to his room on the second floor and tested the lock with his key. It clicked open easily. He didn't have to struggle with fitting the key in the way he did with his door back home, an annoying comfort that nagged at him. There was nothing to worry about with security, but it didn't feel like home at all.

Shirabu dumped his belongings on the floor. Most of his suitcase was filled with clothes. He didn't think he wanted or needed much more than that, but he could figure everything out later. He decided to wait until a problem came up to buy more supplies.

He spent a couple hours shuffling everything around, tucking the suitcase under his bed and clothes in the closet and dressers. His phone alarm vibrated and told him that he was running out of time, and he glanced at the map for the gym directions before locking the door and heading down the stairs.

Shirabu eventually found the building with a name that matched where he knew practice was being held, the gym next to the blue tower. Shirabu opened the door, the sounds of squeaking shoes and volleyball slams filling the air. It was naturally warmer from the stir of activity and from being sheltered from outside, but the looming pressure of trying out for the team stifled the heat to Shirabu. He felt an uncomfortable warm gust of air hit him as he walked in.

The coach took notice, and he looked over and yelled out to be heard. "If you're trying out, come in. If you're here to dawdle and watch, leave."

Shirabu stepped in more confidently, removing himself from the doorway to let the door completely close. The coach's loud voice was probably intended to scare him, but it reassured Shirabu that he was the one to talk to right away.

"I'm Shirabu Kenjirou."

The coach lifted his clipboard, turning through pages clamped to the clipboard. Shirabu sent in his club application well in advance. He remembered the coach's name, too; Washijou Tanji.

"We already have setters, but they're second and third years, so you might eventually be useful. Change and go line up with the others, we're starting soon."

After he returned from the locker room, his gym shoes and practice clothes on and street shoes gone, Shirabu glanced around slowly to find the group of first years to join. They weren't in a line. They were milling around in a clump of nervous energy, talking and throwing glances to the upperclassmen.

Shirabu awkwardly walked up to them, shuffling to slow down. He folded his leg to stretch, and he switched, and then moving on to stretch his arms and twist at the waist. He could see the upperclassmen already running around the court and starting to practice on their own to warm up. Tendou ran alongside Ushijima, and Semi ran behind them, looking faintly irritated.

Shirabu went through a series of practice runs in different positions for the team, testing out being a spiker and setter. His spikes were average, and his receives were fine. He didn't feel his abilities shine until he was asked to toss to spikers. The players broke apart for a couple setters to set at once.

"Shirabu, toss to Kawanishi," Washijou told him. Washijou barely gave him a glance, and Shirabu didn't get the chance to ask who Kawanishi was.

"You're probably Shirabu," someone said, walking closer and tapping him on the shoulder. "I think I saw him point at you. I'm Kawanishi."

Shirabu turned and acknowledged him in a relieved nod. "I'm never going to remember everyone's names."

"Some of the people here will probably quit. Don't bother trying to right now." Kawanishi stepped away to give Shirabu space to toss.

Kawanishi had a point. Shirabu even suspected that the first few practices were going to be especially hard on them to weed first years out. Already, the tentative practice they were doing started with harsh bouts of laps and exercises without that many breaks. It felt more like an examination of limit than a practice to test out their positions.

Shirabu paused after a few tosses to wipe sweat off his neck and forehead. Kawanishi kept up with him at an equal, steady pace, and he grew tired at the same time as Shirabu. Their arms were sore from receives and spikes, and their legs moved slower with the weight of fatigue.

Shirabu rubbed over his wrists. "This practice feels really long."

"We're probably not done." Kawanishi rolled his shoulder and glanced at Shirabu. "You're a good setter. Good luck," Kawanishi said, and he stepped away as Washijou gathered them in the middle of the court.

The talk was their short break into the last stretch of practice. Washijou spent the time ordering the upperclassmen to specifically practice with the first years, letting them pick which ones to play beside.

Before Shirabu could think about it too much, one of them stepped forward to greet him. "Wakatoshi told me you two've already met, so I'll test you instead. You have a minute to impress me."

Shirabu was startled from the sudden approach. He didn't think about what to say, he just looked up. "Tendou?"

Tendou made a buzzing, screeching noise. "Wrong! Tendou _Satori_. You have fifty seconds left."

Shirabu's eyebrows drew together. "You want a toss from me?"

"A setter? If you're a setter, then set. I'll determine if you pass."

Tendou had already managed to lead him to a clear area after a few moments of talking. Shirabu ran to the nearest supply cart and picked up a volleyball. Tendou was looking at his bare wrist with mock impatience, but Shirabu knew Tendou had no idea how long he took to return.

Tendou started moving when he saw Shirabu prepare to toss without warning. Shirabu didn't think he wanted a warning. Tendou was quick enough, easily leaping and spiking it down. His natural instinct to it made Shirabu rise with pride, thinking it was a sign of his proficiency enabling Tendou to spike it so well, but Tendou let out a clipped hum.

"You're okay. Not Wakatoshi approved, but Satori evaluated. Set, set, and set again with someone else." Tendou waved at him to move.

Shirabu stepped aside, and he watched as Tendou strode past, already intent on another first year a few steps away. After a brief exchange, Tendou motioned for him to serve.

Shirabu spent the rest of practice in unremarkable event, tossing to other first years and practicing with a couple third years and another second year. None of the upperclassmen were any more impressed than Tendou was, and they all moved on to the nearest first year quickly.

At the end, Shirabu bent to catch his breath, indulging in the chance to relax and cool down. He didn't get a starting position, but he didn't expect to right away.

He began heading towards the locker room, automatically walking with a stream of people instead of thinking about where the lockers were. He heard Ushijima and Tendou, and he slowed down, idling conveniently behind them.

"Tired enough," he heard Tendou say. "But not that tired that I'll faint. If I did, you'd catch me, anyway."

Ushijima didn't respond. Tendou kept talking, his hands moving in the air in unnecessary gestures. Shirabu thought Ushijima would split and walk alone, but he didn't even turn his head away. He listened with quiet attention. Semi walked next to Tendou, and he pressed a hand to his forehead and grumbled when Tendou asked him about his shoes.

"They don't make me _clumsy_ ," Semi snapped. He extended his foot to trip Tendou, but Tendou effortlessly stepped over, his body remaining in its normal momentum. Semi's foot skidded, and he stumbled.

Tendou burst out laughing, the guffaw startling every first year near him. "Want to trade shoes, Eita?"

" _No_."

"You don't have the same shoe size," Ushijima told Tendou.

"Maybe he's wearing the wrong size, and we're supposed to be the same."

"Satori, please," Semi said.

Shirabu expected them to talk about volleyball, something important that would fly over his head. He wasn't wrong; he didn't understand them at all.

He sighed and drew his attention to a bench. He opened his sports bag and lifted clothes to change into. He didn't have his own locker yet, so he had to make do with having his belongings on the bench or floor.

He tugged his shirt off and threw it on the bench in a pile with the rest of his dirty clothes. The air washed over his sweaty skin, prickling and chilling him. He hiked his shoulders up and hurried to get dressed.

On his way out, he walked by Kawanishi. Kawanishi nodded at him, but Shirabu wondered if he remembered his name after the long day. He didn't think any of the underclassmen did.

 

* * *

 

After a few days, the crowd of first years thinned out a little. Judging from the coach and the rest of the team, it was an expected reaction. Some of them came to Shiratorizawa purely for the academics, with volleyball coming second, and they probably moved on to a club more suitable for them after they slogged through exhausting practices. Shirabu didn't think anyone tried to join who didn't already play volleyball in junior high, but they still changed their mind.

He continued tossing to other first years some of the time. He occasionally tossed to Kawanishi, sometimes because he was told to do it and sometimes because Kawanishi was conveniently nearby, ready to be tossed to when spiking practice began.

"Just toss with me," Kawanishi said, pulling Shirabu out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"You keep looking over at the second years." Kawanishi's eyes flitted to them for a moment. "Did you want to toss to one of them?"

"No. Sorry. I want to toss to you. I mean it."

Kawanishi's mouth twitched up. "It's fine."

Kawanishi returned to spiking his tosses. His mouth turned slightly smug from catching Shirabu distracted, but he didn't bring it up again.

Shirabu dragged himself to the locker room, feeling exhausted and trudging across the gym floor with heavy feet. Practice was definitely more demanding than junior high, and Shirabu felt like he was going to liquefy into a puddle on the floor.

He leaned against the wall outside, resting in the merciful breeze of the night air. Shirabu's legs were numbingly sore, and he swore they were going to turn into slush.

Shirabu heard Ushijima's voice close by, deep and infrequent compared to Tendou. He couldn't catch any of the words, but after a few steps, they passed in front of him and stopped talking completely.

Tendou snapped his fingers. "You're a setter."

Shirabu lifted his head. "Don't you remember?"

"Nope," Tendou said.

"The first thing you said to me was that Ushijima-san told you who--"

"Really? I don't remember that."

Shirabu's shoulders sunk, his mouth pressing together in a frown he tried to hide. Tendou turned his head up with a grin.

Shirabu turned to Ushijima. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes. We met at the train station."

"Wakatoshi has amazing memory," Tendou piped in.

Ushijima glanced and gave him a heavy look. Tendou snorted. Shirabu had the feeling that it was supposed to be a joke judging from the easy exchange, but he missed the punchline completely.

"I meant what I said back then," Shirabu said, looking away from Tendou to address Ushijima, his voice slower to deliver his serious tone. "I really did want to come here."

Ushijima's mouth worked through silence, unable to decide on what to say right away. "You're really determined."

Shirabu wrung his hand over his wrist, rolling his wrist and rubbing it to soothe the soreness. "I really am."

"It's only the first week," Tendou said. "Try a month."

"Fine. A month," Shirabu said, tilting his head and emphasizing the words while looking at Tendou.

Tendou linked his fingers together and stretched out his hands, cracking his fingers. "Well. Time's up. Let's go, Wakatoshi."

Ushijima's face was unreadable as they walked away. Shirabu was sure that he wasn't emotionless at that moment, or ever, but he couldn't tell what Ushijima felt. Ushijima's eyes and the twitches of his mouth and nose were the only signs Shirabu could read so far. Ushijima was too serious and composed to yell or smile.

Shirabu turned away, willing himself to move.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu still had to keep up his studying when classes began. There wasn't one gigantic hurdle to overcome like the entrance exam, but there was a persistent stream of homework and the looming threat of exams in the distance. Shirabu wanted to make sure he didn't fall behind.

He loaded his backpack with his notebooks and headed off to the school library. He came right after school ended, carrying his supplies and books with him from class. Practice didn't happen every day, leaving them time to keep up with the rigor of Shiratorizawa's brand of academia. Shirabu sometimes liked studying in his room, but after the years of junior high only studying at home or cram school, it felt stale. His room lost its studious feeling by now, and he was tired of the worn atmosphere that was just too comfortable and laid back to concentrate.

Shirabu took a seat at a table in a corner of the library. He didn't like having free space behind him where someone could pass by and look over his shoulder. It gave him not just a sense of vulnerability, but vague irritation and discomfort.

He spread his books and notebooks, piling the couple of them he didn't need and opening the ones he did. He pushed an open textbook away to have his notebook directly in front of him to write in.

A screech of chair legs on the floor clawed the air, and Shirabu jolted, his eyes wildly shooting up.

"Golden week is coming," Tendou said ominously, quiet enough to not disturb the students nearby. The low silent quality that the atmosphere demanded lent more foreboding to his voice.

Shirabu recovered immediately and looked back down to his book.

Tendou huffed. "You're not supposed to ignore your senpai."

"I'm prioritizing my homework."

"I won't bother such a hardworking student, then."

Shirabu interpreted that as patronizing, and he would've kept thinking that if Tendou didn't sit down and dump his own set of books on the table.

He straightened to look at him, working his shoulders irritably in the movement. "Can't you find your own table?"

"It always gets crowded here. I'm taking advantage of luck."

He pushed Tendou's books to the farthest corner of the table from him. "Don't sit that close."

Tendou slid them back. "And let you have the lonely table all to yourself? Share."

Shirabu stopped reading completely and pressed his hand to the side of his forehead. Tendou didn't notice, and he contentedly began studying.

Tendou was surprisingly quiet. Shirabu didn't expect him to be loud when they were in a library, but he didn't think Tendou could be silent like he was doing it out of consideration instead of observation of library rules.

He resumed studying once he got over Tendou's presence. He fell into a such a deep attentive trance that he forgot Tendou was there until his phone vibrated, his alarm quietly going off and reminding him to go home.

He filed everything away one at a time, careful so he wouldn't make noise. He ended up dropping the heaviest book he had on the floor, and the noise startled him even though he knew it was coming. He flinched and stumbled, his foot slipping backward with a squeak on the floor. His hand caught on the chair for balance.

A muffled snicker came from Tendou, rushing in a broken noise that almost sounded like a snort. He didn't say anything as Shirabu shoved the last book in. He roughly zipped his backpack up and walked away.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu didn't think he had an endurance problem. He kept up with the other first years and Washijou's demanding drills, and he was as exhausted as everyone else at the end of the day. Even Semi and Yamagata looked out of breath when practice ended, more than Ushijima.

He flopped on a bench in the locker room, slumped and utterly worn out. He finished his water bottle, and he was about to stand up when Ushijima walked by the row of lockers behind Shirabu and saw him. He paused and slid his foot to face Shirabu.

"Tired?" Ushijima asked.

"Very tired," Shirabu admitted with an absentminded sigh.

Ushijima's eyes concentrated on Shirabu. "Improve your endurance if you intend to complete your goal. Otherwise, I won't take you seriously."

Shirabu stared ahead even when Ushijima left. He clamped his mouth so it wouldn't open, his jaw tightening from struggling in confused surprise.

A first year standing next to Shirabu coughed. He pulled his mouth together into a slow question, his eyes swimming and widening at the edges. "What'd you do to him?"

Shirabu turned to him. "What do you mean, what did I do? We've barely talked."

"I was just asking. He didn't sound happy." He slipped his school bag strap around his neck onto his shoulder and walked out.

Shirabu sucked in a breath and got up. He shuffled out of the locker room and went outside, frowning to himself as he thought it over. He and Ushijima only talked a few times. He couldn't think of anything that could've prompted that response from him. The one goal Shirabu could think of, getting into Shiratorizawa, was already fulfilled. It was what Ushijima doubted when they first met. Shirabu didn't know what Ushijima was talking about, but whatever it was, getting stronger was what he wanted from him.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu slammed his locker closed with a lazy swing. He wasn't upset or riled up, but he liked the satisfying sound of the metal locker slamming shut. The clang blended in with the noise of the locker room, echoing with other players closing their lockers and tugging shoes on. He tested the lock to make sure his belongings were safe, and he stepped away.

He ran out onto the court and began stretching. School ended for the day, and it was the last day before golden week. Today's practice would go normally, but tomorrow, Shirabu had to be at the training camp facility early in the morning for the week of concentrated practice and matches with other schools. Shiratorizawa's team was large, and while he didn't know how big the camp buildings were, he guessed that they'd be enough to accommodate all of them, and the other sports teams at Shiratorizawa.

After stretching to his feet and working his arms and muscles to a limber warmth, he began laps around the court. He jogged at a mild pace, waiting for Ushijima to reach his side in the middle of his laps he had begun before Shirabu. Shirabu increased his speed then, his legs burning more and his breath coming faster. His muscles were already straining from the effort after a minute of following Ushijima. Ushijima's naturally longer and more muscular legs carried him through his speed easily, his breathing even and calm.

Ushijima slowed and turned his head.

"You're going to wear yourself out," Ushijima said.

"I'm fine," Shirabu said, but it came out in a forceful rush between breaths.

"Learn to pace yourself." Ushijima lifted his head and shifted into a faster speed, running ahead and leaving Shirabu behind.

Laughter sounded behind Shirabu. He glanced back and saw Tendou jogging, managing to keep up behind Shirabu despite laughing and holding a hand over his mouth to sloppily hide his sniggering.

"You tried to run with _Wakatoshi_?" He managed to ask after his laughter died down. "Where do you get off thinking you can keep up with him?"

Shirabu leaned forward, simmering and tightening his mouth to stay silent. He was already warm from exercise, but now his face burned even more. He wiped his hand over his mouth, dragging it slowly and pressing it in place, almost biting it.

"Embarrassed now?" Tendou asked cheerfully. "You've put me in such a good mood, so I'll conveniently forget this happened. For your sake."

Tendou pulled ahead as well, running with bright eyes and a light grin, head tilted up.

Shirabu hung behind with a scowl. The lesson in impatience lodged a thorn in him. If he was going to improve with their approval, he couldn't _try_ to get their approval.

He sifted through Ushijima's reaction and decided to not coast by in practice. He didn't actively try to relax and just go through the motions, but if he wasn't thinking about pushing himself, then he wasn't going to do it. For today at least, Ushijima and Tendou's unprompted glances motivated him to work harder without him having to remind himself.

Shirabu helped remove nets from the metal poles in the gym, working with a second year in a combined effort to fold one and carry it to the supply closet. He didn't mind cleaning with someone he didn't know yet. Neither of them talked, but the second year greeted Semi as they passed, Semi carrying a load of volleyballs in his arms beside Tendou.

Kawanishi's mopping brought him near Shirabu after Shirabu dusted his hands free. Kawanishi slowed and straightened the handle to come to a stop. "Some of the first years are going out for gyudon in a little while. Want to come?"

Shirabu's first instinct was to refuse, but he hesitated. A month of school hadn't even passed yet, so not having friends wasn't a big deal, but he thought it'd reflect badly if more time passed and he still wasn't making friends.

Shirabu shrugged. "Fine. I'll go."

Kawanishi nodded and pushed on the mop to guide it away.

Shirabu took a heavy breath and returned to collecting nets. He helped a first year with the last net, and after that, the gym clean up was finished. Shirabu went to the locker room and hurried through changing clothes to wait outside the gym.

Immediately someone turned when he stepped outside. "Are you coming with us to eat?"

Shirabu gave a small nod as he walked closer to join them. It was a much smaller group of first years than the one he remembered seeing during tryouts. Their heads and shoulders resonated vague familiarity in him, small memories anchoring the faces to the lazy details he remembered, barely.

"Who told you about it?"

"Kawanishi."

"Oh, him. I didn't know you knew each other." He held his hand out. "I'm Hijiori Kaede."

"I'm Shirabu Kenjirou." Shirabu glanced down at Hijiori’s hand. His arm twitched, and his fingers curled, mentally gauging for a moment. He made a noise in his throat, and he met him in a brief, almost instantaneous handshake, only to tap his palm. He crossed his arms when he pulled away. "Kawanishi told me only first years are coming."

Hijiori smoothed his hand over his neck, bringing it to his shoulder and scratching sheepishly. "The second and third years don't really know us, so we didn't ask any of them."

Shirabu briefly thought about Ushijima, and then Tendou, but a flicker of his laughter and burning hair snuffed itself out.

"I know what you mean…" Shirabu trailed off, unable to even imagine Ushijima tagging along.

Hijiori glanced around. After a moment, he asked, "I saw you talk to Tendou earlier. What's he like?"

Shirabu's eyelids lowered to a distant level. "He's hard to take."

"That's what I heard..."

The gym door opened, and Kawanishi appeared, along with another first year. Shirabu recognized him as the one from the locker room the other day, when Ushijima told him to work harder. Shirabu rumbled faintly in the back of his throat, his shoulders heavy with the memory. Now, without Ushijima's presence overwhelming his attention, he noticed the first year's dark brown hair, darker than his own, messy and slightly curling with a perpetual wind.

"I think that's everyone. Let's go," Hijiori said. He removed his hands from his jacket pockets and started walking.

Shirabu fell in line beside Kawanishi. The gyudon shop wasn't that far away, but it still wasn't on campus, and they had to make their way to the sidewalk and traverse the path through town.

"I'm exhausted," someone mumbled in front of them. He managed to slouch and drag his feet as Hijiori pulled him along by the arm for a minute.

Shirabu leaned in slightly to Kawanishi from the side. "Didn't you walk out with him? Do you know him?" he asked in a whisper.

"No."

Shirabu returned to facing forward. "I met him once, but I don't remember his name."

"Then you're just as bad."

"I don't think anyone told me," Shirabu said.

Kawanishi sighed. His arms tugged down from his shoulders, his hands falling past his waist. He remained silent, his mouth held quietly, pinched like he couldn't decide if he wanted to add something else.

Shirabu twisted away to stretch at his waist. He didn't want to admit it, and he wasn't going to complain, but he was tired, too. The lingering soreness ached for a stretch, even after the routine cool-down.

He relaxed and switched to bending an elbow behind his head. His head tilted back, and he saw the blossoms in the trees of yards by the sidewalk, the branches long and straight overhead. Almost all of the sakura blossoms were in bloom by now, trimming the branches in dense clouds of light pinks. The breeze blew lightly enough to stir the petals and leaves into rustling, but they didn't fall, waving in the wind and glowing white.

"We've been here a while, but we haven't really gone exploring," the same exhausted voice from before said.

"We're only here for gyudon," Hijiori said.

"I meant in _town_ for school. We've been here for a week or two now."

After a pause, Hijiori said, "We're only getting gyudon today."

"He has a point, though," Kawanishi said. "We just spend time at school, in the dorm, at the gym, or on the train going home."

"We're too tired for anything but food today," someone said behind them.

"That's probably why we never do anything, we're always tired."

Shirabu's eyes fixed ahead in a slow, bored blink.

"This is never going to happen again," Hijiori mumbled.

By the time they made it to the restaurant, Hijiori's friend was shuffling and trudging to rest against the door, his sway to lean against it too delayed to be convincing.

They took a table to the side, along the wall under a window. Shirabu stepped around Kawanishi to claim the seat right against the wall. He moved in a quick motion, fluid with intent, but Kawanishi sat down calmly without paying attention to him.

"If you're so tired, why did you come?" Shirabu asked the slumping first year across from him. "Gyudon isn't something to get excited about."

"I'm hungry."

"He's too tired to deal with making food back at the dorm," Hijiori said.

Kawanishi's attention turned to Hijiori's friend. His arm slid on the table with his weight, and he leaned a little to the side. "I still don't know what your name is."

He straightened. "I didn't tell you?"

"No."

"I did," he insisted.

Shirabu's hand fell to the table. "I don't know it," he said. "Just say it."

He cleared his throat. His shoulders rose in a cough, and a series of choking noises brought Hijiori to pat his back.

"His name's Akayu Hiroto," Hijiori said.

Akayu flapped his hand at Shirabu. His other hand flattened on his chest to calm his coughing.

"I'm Shirabu Kenjirou," he said, his eyes calm as he watched Akayu struggle to breathe.

Kawanishi shifted more to the side to meet Akayu's eyes. "Want my name, too?"

His arm brushed Shirabu, quiet and light, rustling like a stray leaf. Shirabu moved away. His smooth reaction followed within a second, and the instinctive quickness caught Kawanishi's attention, along with the sudden sharpness of Shirabu’s eyes piercing ahead. Without the weight next to Kawanishi, his arm slid, and he turned and raised an eyebrow.

Their group number rung out from the counter. Two of them stood up and scrambled out of their chairs.

"I'll get it!"

Hijori returned from his conversation of telling Kawanishi's name to Akayu and glanced at them walking away. "They must be really hungry..."

Kawanishi drew his drink closer and took a sip. Shirabu scooted to fit comfortably against the wall, and he stared out the window, at the green-leaved trees lining the path outside.

Akayu gestured at Shirabu. "I see you with upperclassmen a lot."

"Not really," Shirabu said, his head carrying the movement of talking as his chin rested on his hand.

"I see you with them, kind of," Akayu continued at Kawanishi.

Kawanishi shrugged.

Hijiori rested his arms on the table, his head inclining with interest. "So, you've talked to Ushijima-san outside of volleyball?"

"No," Kawanishi said.

"A few times," Shirabu said a beat after him.

Akayu scooted in beside Hijiori. "What's he like?"

"He gets to the point..." Shirabu unwound in his seat, his arms crossing and relaxing. "It's hard to tell what he thinks."

"He looks terrifying on the court, but I think he looks awkward everywhere else," Akayu said.

Hijiori's mouth tightened, but his shoulders were shaking, along with the seriousness in his eyes.

"Awkward...?" Kawanishi asked.

"He frowns a lot. I heard him talk about plants once."

Hijiori turned his head completely, laughing under his breath.

"If you knew, then why'd you ask me?" Shirabu asked.

Akayu's face drew together, almost blank with a crease in his eyebrows. "When you put it like that, I don't know."

The other two first years arrived and deposited their food on the table. One of them paused, glancing at Akayu. "Everyone's quiet."

Akayu sat up. He thrummed his hand on the table. "Yutagawa, what do you think of Ushijima-san?"

"He's going to be captain after the third years leave."

"That's not what I meant."

Everyone dug into their bowls, and Akayu grumbled to himself as he detached from the conversation and grabbed a pair of chopsticks.

Kawanishi tapped Shirabu's bowl. "Why do you keep looking out the window?"

Shirabu turned from him and glanced back outside. "It's getting warmer."

"It's spring."

"When summer comes, it's going to be hot and disgusting."

"And you...don't like summer," Kawanishi said, voice flat, answering instead of asking.

Akayu's head turned up. "Don't say that again," he said in a muffled voice from the food.

Shirabu looked at him steadily.

"He gets annoyed at me about the weather, too," Hijiori admitted as he picked up a piece of food.

"The sakura blossoms are already in season," someone said.

"That's not part of the weather," Akayu shot back.

Shirabu resumed eating. The conversation unfolded, loudly, when Hijiori pressed that he could "feel" it was going to rain tomorrow, and Shirabu grew too tired to contribute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Nishita is a canon high school, and Kawatabi is canonically Shirabu's teammate.
> 
> 2\. In this fic, Ushijima's jersey number for his first year, #8, is Goshiki's current jersey number in the canon era.
> 
> 3\. Red tulips mean fame and trust in hanakotoba.
> 
> 4\. Toyokuro is Shirabu's canon junior high mentioned in the manga.
> 
> 5\. The idea for Shiratorizawa having dorms came with a bunch of research on Japanese high schools. Well equipped, selective schools have dorms since many students go out of their way to attend prestigious schools (or from what I found, at least). And Shiratorizawa definitely fits this category. LATER EDIT: furudate confirmed this a long time later...
> 
> 6\. The idea for Ushijima having amazing memory comes from Let's Haikyuu, where he has terrible navigation skills. I feel like those qualities fit together.
> 
> 7\. Tomori, Takagi, Hijiori, Akayu, and Yutagawa are all ocs. Aside from Ushijima, the canon team players of Shiratorizawa all follow a naming pattern -- they share names with onsens in Yamagata prefecture -- and Hijiori, Akayu, and Yutagawa follow the pattern, too. The other two don't since they went to Toyokuro and not Shiratorizawa.


	2. Chapter 2

Shirabu arrived at the training camp half an hour before the time he was asked to be there. He wasn't nervous, but after waking up and eating, he couldn't stay still, and he decided to leave no matter what time it was.

He didn't have the chance to see the camp buildings before. Shirabu knew where all the gyms were by now, but the training camp buildings were beyond the main part of school, past the horseback riding club's field. He walked by the field to camp, following the school signs away from the classrooms. Trees dotted the landscape in Miyagi fashion, clumped together along roads and in between buildings, spacing them out in uneven patterns and winding away in the distance. The school buildings shrunk as the camp grew bigger, the buildings large and new-looking in the recognizable Shiratorizawa fashion, shiny and sharp. The blue, orange, and white colors decorating every building were in the same tones and clean trim in the camp buildings, blue bordering the windows above. According to Washijou, the buildings were meant to be a place for the team to gather in one place just for practicing, since not everyone lived far enough away to need to live in the dorm building. The camp buildings could also support all of Shiratorizawa's sports teams and clubs practicing at the same time, instead of trading off to share gyms. Shirabu didn’t think he wanted to travel from the dorms to the gyms and back every day, and he let out a grateful huff of air when he dumped his belongings on the floor inside.

Shirabu wasn't the first one there. Some of the team players were already winding up into activity, cleaning floors and pulling out sheets and blankets for the cots. Shirabu silently joined to help them take out cots. He relocated to the gym afterward and unfolded nets and pushed supply carts around. He saw Kawanishi pull out chairs from the supply closet for the coach and managers, and the scoreboard was retrieved by someone else.

When morning practice officially started, the team set off for a jog around camp. He kept to his own limits this time, as consciously as he did after Tendou teased him, while still pushing to not be last. Ushijima jogged at the front of the team. He looked as calm and peaceful as he did when he was standing still or walking, his upper body unperturbed from the torturous run and the stretch of distance ahead. Tendou wasn't close to Ushijima or Shirabu this time. He was running next to Yamagata, his legs moving with nonchalant buoyancy, feet pushing off the ground, quick and rhythmic. The light ease to his steps told Shirabu he wasn't struggling, even though he was in front of most of the first and second years. Yamagata jogged beside him normally, leaning away in exasperation.

Shirabu slouched and dragged his feet at the end of the run. Running around the track field and camp felt a little more casual than running around a court, and the scenery was green and invigorating, but Shirabu still huffed out heavy breaths. His lungs burned as he drank water, stinging and struggling to draw in air, and he gasped to breathe after the gulp of water. He ended up drinking so much that he ran out, and he went to the water fountain to refill his bottle.

He moved aside to make room as Kawanishi bent to drink from the fountain. He leaned against the wall in a slow speed, easing his back into the wall as he looked around, his eyes scanning the grass and concrete paths around them. The team was idling around in their break, some of them sitting in the shadow of the gym, their arms and legs flopped on the floor. Tendou followed them, but completely opposite, upside down, lying on his back with his feet planted lazily on the wall. Ushijima stood next to him. No one seemed to give special notice to Tendou, with his head tilted back to stare up at Ushijima, and at Semi when he walked by.

Shirabu vaguely motioned to Tendou. "Kawanishi, does he bother you too? Not upset you, just...bugs a lot."

Kawanishi straightened and wiped his hand over his mouth. "All the time."

"Figures," Shirabu mumbled.

Shirabu jogged away to rejoin the team as everyone returned to the gym, with Kawanishi following. Shirabu placed his bottle on the floor next to the wall and hurried for the start of blocking practice.

Semi stepped next to him with his arms crossed. "I can't believe you want to be Ushijima's setter," he said. He glanced up and down Shirabu. "You _said_ it to him."

Shirabu's eyebrows knitted. "What do you mean?"

Semi looked away, focusing on the court as other players blocked and spiked. "Tendou told me."

"Where did he hear that?" Shirabu asked.

"From Wakatoshi."

Shirabu's shoulders rotated lower, his head dipping to the side. He grappled with recalling the first few times he saw Ushijima in person, walking by him or briefly talking in the gym, but then he realized that the real first time they met was at the train station, on Shirabu's way to cram school. The rush of it warmed over him again, and he felt the same thrumming beat pound his chest.

"I don't know why you announced that or what that says something about you, but Wakatoshi thinks it's a statement of intent."

"I didn't announce it."

Semi shrugged. "He takes every word seriously. And remembers them for a long time."

That brought to mind Tendou's failed joke, a jab at Ushijima's memory, and the joke clicked in place. Tendou wasn't making fun of Ushijima's terrible memory, he was teasing him about _having_ memory, an impeccable and reliable one. That still didn't make it a good joke, but it made sense.

Shirabu dropped his head in thought. Ushijima was going to remember everything he said and did, including the failed attempt at jogging with him. Shirabu's head filled with a humid hot gust of air, stifling and burning his face. He was embarrassed, but it was more an irritated swelter than a blush.

Shirabu pushed through the rest of practice. Annoyance at his recent mistakes compelled him to work harder, work better, and keep his head above metaphorical water, but he felt blocked by his inability to actually _learn_ from his mistakes. He couldn't generalize from them to stop making them altogether, he could only remedy each specific problem, and he felt himself drown in the piling blows to his worth as a setter.

Kawanishi stepped beside him, startling him in his silence. Shirabu spun and met his eyes.

"You look tense."

"I'm, well…" Shirabu drifted off. He thought it was going to be someone else, and he was still winding down from that expectation.

Kawanishi walked away, fiddling with his hands and extending them to stretch his arms. Shirabu turned away and brushed his hand over his hair. He _was_ tense.

It didn't help that Ushijima chose to walk nearby at that moment, unaware of Shirabu's gathering storm clouds. He opened the door and headed out on his way to the cafeteria for lunch.

Shirabu stalked behind him quietly. "Ushijima-senpai," he said, his voice resolute.

Ushijima paused and turned to acknowledge him. "Shirabu."

Shirabu opened his mouth, and he closed it instead of answering that. He stopped in front of him, spurring his thoughts to speak before he lost his nerve. "Semi told me you think I want to be _your_ setter."

"Don't you?"

"I meant _Shiratorizawa's_ setter."

Ushijima's mouth wavered from its neutrality, a frown developing with his furrowing eyebrows. "Setting to Shiratorizawa would mean setting to me."

Shirabu muttered and scratched the side of his neck. "That's true, but that's not my point." He scrabbled his hand over his neck and dropped it. "You said you weren't going to take me seriously about a goal. Is this what you meant?"

"You're a setter, and you told me you wanted to be Shiratorizawa's setter. You've already demonstrated your resolve and diligence in being accepted here, which means you've only fulfilled half of your goal."

Shirabu fell silent. He had approached Ushijima with confusion, intent on clearing it, but that was because he already picked through what Ushijima said. Now he was confused again.

Tendou walked up behind Ushijima, placing his hands on Ushijima's shoulders. "No wonder Wakatoshi was held up. It's our fifteenth favorite setter!"

Ushijima let himself be jostled by Tendou's hands. Shirabu's mouth twitched, and he choked down a snort as he watched Ushijima be shaken, his shoulders rolling with Tendou’s jostling.

"Come on, let's go, Wakatoshi. You don't want to miss lunch." Tendou turned him and tried to push, but Ushijima stepped out of his hands to walk away himself.

He angled his head back to meet Shirabu's eyes. "I'll see you at practice, Shirabu."

"Right..." Shirabu said, his voice trailing off into a breath.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu dug through his sports bag, his hands slowing and then digging faster. He already had breakfast, and morning practice was going to start soon. He didn't have that much time to find his lip balm.

He paused to rub his hand over his mouth. He woke up with chapped lips, and he spent breakfast alternating between rubbing at them and trying to ignore the discomfort. After he ate half of his breakfast, he couldn't take it anymore, and he rushed through the rest of his food and hurried to his bag under his cot.

Shirabu stopped. He couldn't find any lip balm. He forgot it, and he was never going to have any for golden week.

He ran back to the gym, resting his hands on the doorway to catch his breath. The rest of the team was already filing in for morning practice, including Ushijima. He glanced at Shirabu and nodded.

"You've already warmed up, I see."

Ushijima's voice had a note of subtle approval, but Tendou was chortling behind him and looking away, his hand in a fist over his mouth. Shirabu lowered his arms and narrowed his eyes at Tendou as they walked by. He followed them in and drifted to give himself room to stretch properly, jogging in place for a moment to shake off the unintentional run he did on the way to the gym. He stretched his arms next, and he ended up wiping his hand against his mouth again, automatically moving it to clear away the feeling of dry skin.

Shirabu was still suffering after a few hours of practice. He kept smacking his lips and licking them, biting and picking at them with his fingers once in a while when his hands were free. After practice ended, and then lunch, he picked up his water bottle and headed out to the gym again, his free hand still struggling at his mouth.

"You've been distracted today," Ushijima said.

Shirabu glanced up at him, inadvertently licking his lips. He grumbled and tried to walk past, but Ushijima looked adequately concerned about something, and it convinced him to stop.

Ushijima pulled out something small and handed it to him. Shirabu's hands fumbled and hurried to hold it. It was a stick of lip balm, plain and unscented.

"You're giving me this?"

"You need it." Ushijima walked away.

Shirabu glanced down at the lip balm. He opened it and rolled it over his mouth, standing stiff and uncomfortable with false awareness, like someone was watching him do it.

For the rest of the day, Shirabu still kept picking at his lips. He pressed a lip between his fingers and absently pinched it as he watched a few players receive, waiting in line for his turn. He ended up biting his bottom lip in thought.

Ushijima approached him, stepping next to him after he finished his own set of receives. "Nervous?"

"No. Why?"

"Repeating a habit is a sign of nervousness."

"It's not a habit," Shirabu pressed.

Ushijima looked away, licking his own lips silently and absently. Shirabu tightened his mouth and tried turning to resume watching the court, but he still thought about what Ushijima said. He slid his hands to his face and pressed them to his skin, feeling the exercise-induced flush heat his hands. His hands continued to his hair, his arms rubbing against his cheeks. Ushijima glanced at him and didn't say anything.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu didn't strive for dramatization, but at the end of the day, he was _exhausted_. He meant to sit and cool down with stretches, and he slid and caved into lying down completely, flattened on the floor, his stomach facing the ceiling. Gravity weighing in his throat and head poured heaviness into his vision, shapes slow and dizzy with people passing and looming above, the gym walls extending up and closing in. He sighed and breathed out deeply. The movement swayed his sight a little, his head bumping on the floor.

Ushijima appeared again, walking up to Shirabu's side to look down at him. He looked taller than before from this angle, but the inflated height didn't erase the intensity in his eyes. Shirabu felt the ground harden and sink around him as he returned Ushijima's gaze, air filling his lungs as he breathed deeper than before. Shirabu was too tired to consider the feeling of vulnerability.

"The gym is closing soon."

Shirabu lifted his arm and let it flop back down to demonstrate his fatigue. "I'm getting up."

Ushijima kept staring down at him. "You're not moving."

Shirabu rested his hand on his stomach. "In a little while."

Ushijima stepped and made to leave, but he stopped himself. His shoulders set decisively, fixing in place after a breath, and he crouched down. Shirabu's eyes lit up in surprise, realizing Ushijima was bending and reaching for his hand. Shirabu scooted back and sat up. He pushed himself off the floor and came to his feet.

He looked up at Ushijima with slight wariness edged in his eyes. "Don't do that next time," Shirabu said, rubbing at his forehead as he walked away.

Ushijima continued beside him. "I won't."

The faint promise wrung out a snort from Shirabu. He shook his head without a word.

Shirabu took his place beside Akayu and Kawanishi for dinner, carrying a bowl of udon and lowering it to the table carefully.

Kawanishi glanced at him. "You forgot a drink."

Shirabu sighed and stepped out from his seat.

"Bring napkins," a first year asked.

Shirabu shuffled away with a mumble. He passed through rows of tables and made his way to the corner counter, and he grabbed a cup of water for himself. He paused at the napkins.

After a few seconds, he noticed someone next to him, and he looked up at Ushijima. "Ushijima-senpai?"

Ushijima was also staring at the napkins. "Shirabu."

Shirabu reached for a bunch and handed him one. "Did you need one?"

"Thank you." Ushijima accepted it and tucked it aside.

Shirabu took a step away, and he slowed and stopped again. He evaluated Ushijima in the light, his eyes trailing on Ushijima's shorts, the short sleeves to his bare arms, and the surprisingly unkept collar of his shirt.

Ushijima's eyes followed his, and he glanced down at the wrinkled wet neckline. "Tendou spilled water on me."

Shirabu's hands motioned at the height between them. "You're taller than him."

"I don't understand how it happened, either."

Shirabu looked him over again, Akayu's words ringing, _I think he looks awkward everywhere else_.

Right now, a feeling of awkwardness did strike Shirabu, but it wasn't from Ushijima. Ushijima looked normal, and he blended in with his ordinary practice clothes. It struck Shirabu from the inside, as he looked at him. No matter how many times he saw Ushijima outside of the court, he couldn't get used to seeing him like this, it was new every time; with a lopsided sensation, bigger than reality, lifted from the brushstrokes of a painting. Standing in front of him, Ushijima didn't seem real to Shirabu. He was _too_ real. Shirabu could glimpse the feeling framed in the sight of Ushijima's arms, legs, neck, the space he held, and the width of his shoulders.

Shirabu couldn't let the feeling of novelty go as he returned to the table. He dumped the napkins in the middle and stared into his food. Ushijima, with or without his team jersey; without it he was even more tangible, physically present, and Shirabu couldn't deny that appeal, him in everyday wear. It was close, private.

He drifted to the showers after dinner, trudging through hallways and blearily turning a knob for hot water. Shirabu didn't know why, but showering always made him sleepy. The showers were divided into separate stalls for privacy, walls all around except for the shower curtain, and he leaned to the side against the wall to rest. He let the heat and steam cloud the air, dragging his eyes slightly closed. Shirabu didn't spend too much time showering, and he finished in a few minutes, dead tired and ready to fall asleep.

Shirabu stepped out of the showers already dressed in his pajamas, and he dumped a towel in the dirty pile in a cart next to a wall on the way out. He carried his practice clothes over his arms and started heading for the door, his wrist rubbing against his eyes.

There was a swish of a shower curtain closing from a nearby shower, and Ushijima stepped out. Shirabu expected plenty of people to be showering, but he was still caught by surprise, and his arms dropped and hands moved for a better grip on his clothes.

Ushijima was wearing pajamas, shorts and a shirt, with a towel on his neck. His hair didn't usually stick up, but now it was completely flat and wet, dripping a bit of water down his neck. The clean brightness swept in his skin looked warm, and the steam behind him confirmed it. There wasn't that much steam, but there was enough clouded air to darken his eyes for a moment from the shielded light. He lifted the towel and drew it over his hair to dry himself, sprinkling water and ruffling his hair as he wrangled water out.

Shirabu twisted his hands in his clothes and continued to walk away. He was too tired to talk to anyone.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu woke up with his leg over the side of his cot, his face on its side on the pillow, and a sheet barely on his waist. He pulled the sheet off and changed quickly, shuffling into his socks and yawning. He took a seat in the cafeteria and drowsily stabbed his food with his chopsticks.

"Morning!"

Shirabu hunched away from Tendou and Akayu to resume eating. Tendou nearly yelled it, but it didn't strike Shirabu as cheerful and friendly, just sudden and loud. Akayu’s hand retreated from almost patting Shirabu on the back, and he darted to the side, eyes wide at Tendou.

"You're never as chatty as I think you'll be." Tendou sat down and drummed his hands on the table.

Akayu slid down next to Shirabu. His eyes failed to notice Shirabu's irritated glance at his hand. “I didn’t know he was there,” Akayu said to Shirabu, voice slow and caught in thought.

Shirabu set his elbow down and leaned toward his propped arm, sighing and flicking his chopsticks in the air. "Didn't you say you thought I'd quit after a month?” he asked Tendou.

"No, I said you wouldn't last a month. Before the month ends, not after it."

Shirabu snapped his chopsticks together and quietly pressed his fingers to his eyes. Tendou started eating, and after a few bites, he raised his hand and waved. “Wakatoshi-kun!"

Shirabu didn't see other upperclassmen approach the table, but Ushijima did, and he walked to them and stopped. "What is it?"

"Sit down and eat. Shirabu and Akayu invited us."

Shirabu frowned and opened his mouth to speak, his nose twisting and wrinkling, but he couldn't think of a response, and he returned to eating. Akayu drifted to look at Ushijima, his chopsticks bound to his tofu, waywardness honing into surprise. Ushijima didn't question any of them and sat down beside Tendou. He glanced down and picked up a piece of rice with his chopsticks.

Shirabu looked around. Semi was sitting with other second years, but a couple first years were at his table, too. Kawanishi was at a table further away, silently eating with a second year in between himself and Yamagata, with Hijiori and another first year across from them. Meaning Tendou had no one else to sufficiently terrorize without resorting to harassing someone he didn't know.

"It's been a couple weeks, Wakatoshi-kun. I think he's going to stay."

"The only time anyone quit was in the first couple days," Shirabu said.

"I didn't want to assume anything. That's rude."

Akayu slunk in his seat to meet Shirabu’s height. “What is he talking about?"

“Exactly what he said."

“...What?"

“Nothing.” Shirabu shoveled his chopsticks through his food.

Akayu relaxed. His chewing directed his mouth to the side, muffled as he said, “Did you mean…” He swallowed. “Do you mean you were actually trying out for the team that first day?"

“Yeah."

“So you didn’t get in on a sports recommendation?"

“No."

“You made it on your _own_?"

Shirabu immediately cringed. He stiffened as he noticed Tendou and Ushijima turn. “Not that _loud_ ,” he hissed.

“On your own what?” Tendou asked. He leaned forward in interest, dropping his chin on his hand as his voice cut off the end of the question.

“Nice going,” Shirabu muttered.

“Shirabu _studied_ for the entrance exam in,” Akayu said, his mouth open on his last syllable. “Most of those were the ones who quit the team."

Tendou vaguely gestured over the table at Shirabu. “Oh, so that’s the kind we have right here,” he said. “Special."

Shirabu's mouth twisted with a quick glance at Ushijima. He was looking at his plate, intent and quiet, his face drawn in soft seriousness.

“What do you think, Wakatoshi?” Tendou asked.

“It explains his low stamina."

Akayu and Tendou burst out laughing. Akayu’s hand rifled up to his hair in his laughter, half covering his eyes as he messed up his hair.

Ushijima’s frown pulled in the edges of thought around his face. “Was it what I said?"

Tendou waved him off absentmindedly, and Ushijima’s mouth deepened to the side in a thinner tightness. The reflection of it in his eyes, slightly narrowed, sharp but almost blank with confusion, made Akayu laugh again.

Shirabu slouched against the back of his seat. “I played volleyball in junior high."

“Toyokuro isn’t a well known school,” Ushijima said.

“Ooh, how do you know that one?” Tendou asked.

“Shirabu told me the day we met."

“The day you met,” Tendou repeated. He leaned back in his seat, calm again as he sipped his drink. “You two keep bringing it up. I almost wish I had been there."

“Weren’t we all there?” Akayu asked.

“It wasn’t at the first day of practice.” Shirabu parted his mouth around his chopsticks, barely biting the tip as he grumbled. He kept his jaw rigid instead of chewing.

“You were friends already, then?"

Shirabu glanced at Ushijima, deferring and willing himself quiet.

“We only met once before he joined the team.” Ushijima lifted a piece of chicken with his chopsticks and took a bite.

He kept eating, and it led Shirabu to do the same. He bit into his food and let Tendou and Akayu talk, swallowing and looking between them. Ushijima remained attentively silent as he ate. Tendou conducted his hands and chopsticks through useless gestures, clacking and chattering, oblivious to Shirabu's dead response. The waste of effort entertained Shirabu for a little while, and he imitated Ushijima and remained passive.

He switched to paying attention to Ushijima. Tendou's words blew over Shirabu’s head, flitting and blipping in skips in his memory, only here and suddenly there like the broken pauses on a record in the background, Ushijima's silence filling and catching in Shirabu's ears. Ushijima ate at an ordinary pace, but the expression in his face spoke slowness, his eyes lidding in slow blinks, almost closed in a bite. Shirabu bit his chopsticks again. His thoughts crowded to the movement of Ushijima’s hand, his left hand, curled around a chopstick and curling Shirabu to the warm note of _Ushijima's left hand_ ringing between his ears.

He completely forgot that Ushijima was left handed. He turned the idea over, shiny and glowing in his head now that he remembered, pulling apart a small balled thrum of affection at the detail. It placed soft and slow in Shirabu, the way Ushijima's face did. Shirabu sat still, unable to explain _why_  it mattered, just that it was important.

Shirabu tore away and turned to sip at his drink. He thought about talking, but he didn't know what to say. He could ask how Tendou and Ushijima became friends, which might bring up a long or uncomfortable story, or he could ask something mundane, Ushijima's favorite color or the name of Tendou's pets, or Akayu’s junior high. Something just for him to pick at their reactions and watch them talk.

Shirabu settled with dragging his chopsticks through his rice and ignoring Tendou completely. Tendou's natural volume was loud, but Shirabu managed to divert his attention with glances at Ushijima, gauging his responses to Tendou. Ushijima only interrupted Tendou with an occasional answer or clarification.

Tendou's eyes fixed on Shirabu's bowl. "Don't you like egg?"

"I'm trying to eat slowly."

"No wonder."

Shirabu's eyebrows drew together with a tightened mouth. He had the feeling that Tendou was generalizing something, somehow.

Tendou hummed and stood up, his tray in hand. "I'm done. Are you three coming?"

Akayu held his empty plate up and shimmied off the bench to his feet. He tossed his chopsticks in the middle of his plate and walked away.

"I'm not done," Ushijima said.

Shirabu pointed at his bowl. "What do you think?"

"Fine, fine. Take your time." Tendou turned away. He mumbled something, but Shirabu didn't catch the words.

Shirabu started eating faster. He wasn't trying to be slow before, but eating with Ushijima satisfied him.

Until the silence stretched. And he realized he still didn't know what to say. Sitting alone with Ushijima felt like a heavier moment, affecting Shirabu's ability to look him in the eye. Ushijima didn't seem to mind, but the silence made Shirabu squirm and press his mouth together in disappointment.

Shirabu shifted and glanced up, eyes slightly averted. "Ushijima-senpai, why do you two keep talking to me?"

"You're a setter on our team."

"I meant, why more than other first years? Today was the first day I saw you talk to Akayu."

Ushijima sipped from his drink and pushed it away. "You approached me first, months ago."

Shirabu swallowed another bite. "I know, but that doesn't mean anything."

Ushijima continued eating, and Shirabu didn't know how to ask again. He resigned himself to chewing quietly and finishing breakfast in peace.

 

* * *

 

From the fourth day of golden week on, Shiratorizawa played in practice matches against other teams. Shirabu wasn't a starting member, so he watched from the sidelines as Shiratorizawa's main players practiced. Ordinary practices were thrown in around the practice match that happened once a day. Shirabu knew that practice matches were the real key to getting experience and improving, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Shirabu couldn't complain at the chance to watch, at least. He stood with his arms crossed, his breath slow and steady as he looked across the court. Some of the upperclassmen alternated with other players to give them a chance to play. Shirabu saw Semi and Tendou sit out part of a game to let others participate.

Tendou stepped beside him on the sideline. “Wakatoshi, Wakatoshi," Tendou said. "He's impressive, isn't he?"

"Obviously."

Tendou huffed and moved his hands to his waist. "Already our ace! I don't understand why people don't like him.” He waved at the court. "Look at him. Doesn't that look like someone who just loves volleyball?"

"Everyone on this team loves volleyball."

"You're only a first year, you're not allowed to cut me down so easily."

Shirabu shifted on his feet to turn away. Tendou snorted, pleased with Shirabu's reaction but not moving to terrorize him further. He left Shirabu alone, and they both returning to watching the game.

Ushijima was always quietly earnest, but the court intensified everything about him, his eyes sharp and deep, his arms strong and forceful, magnetizing attention to himself. The amount of strength in his spikes and serves was undeniable. Shirabu knew Shiratorizawa revolved around simplicity and straightforward tactics, and there was something honorable in that, but the real virtue of it was the towering, multifaceted sheerness of power, more than just a wall of blockers but a wall of pressure weighing on the other team. It was stressful on the opponents, and heart-stopping to Shirabu's pounding chest, stunning like lightning.

His fingers tightened on his arms, and he rose with a drawn-out breath filling his chest. Here at least, Shirabu wouldn't be distracted. He could stare right at him, into his eyes that were concentrated somewhere else but still open and looking in Shirabu's general direction. Shirabu could pretend that he was actually standing to him and facing him directly. Shirabu had to look away when he became self-conscious from watching for too long, but it was worth it.

After the match, Shirabu freed his arms and moved to help the team begin practice. The other team left, hurrying to return home before the day ended. The team wasn't from Miyagi prefecture, and the distance meant they were far away from their own city. A long bus ride remained ahead of them.

Ushijima walked up to Shirabu. "Did I do something wrong?"

Shirabu stopped walking and glanced up right away. "No. Why?"

"You kept watching me during practice."

Shirabu's eyebrow rose. "I did?" he asked uselessly. There was no way he could deny it and accuse Ushijima of imagining it.

"Was there a reason why you did it?"

Shirabu slipped his hands to the bottom of his shirt and pinched it, keeping his eyes on Ushijima. "Of course there was. You're… You're the ace, you attract the most attention," he supplied. He didn't stumble or stammer, and he only paused to think about what to say.

He knew Ushijima didn't buy it, but it distracted Ushijima enough for Shirabu to escape and jog to re-stretch away from him.

 

* * *

 

“This isn’t that special,” Shirabu said.

Hijiori stopped waggling his pencil and lowered his hand. “Can you do it?"

“I don’t need to try."

Yamagata reached for Hijiori’s pencil, nodding at him and taking it to wave it in the air.

Shirabu’s eyes followed it. “Why do you have a pencil with you? There aren't any classes."

Hijiori pulled out a small notebook and presented it with a triumphant noise. “I forget things easily," he explained.

"It's dinner time," Shirabu said. "You don't have to pay attention to anything."

The pencil reached wobbly status in Yamagata's hand, oscillating in a bending illusion. It flopped up and down in a loose pattern. The yellow color blurred, until Yamagata paused, turning and acknowledging Ushijima.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he sat down beside Yamagata.

Hijiori glanced up at him, his smile fading. "The bendy pencil thing," he answered with a fumble of his hands. He waved his hand to demonstrate when Ushijima failed to recognize what he said.

"Don't bother. It's pointless when everyone can do it." Shirabu returned to his food and picked at the rice.

Ushijima set his food down and accepted the pencil. He grabbed both ends of it and twisted to bend it.

"That's not how you do it," Yamagata said, his hands closing in and hovering.

Ushijima continued and snapped it in half. He flinched, and Yamagata and Hijiori choked on laughter.

"You broke it...!" Hijiori said between breaths.

The pieces rolled in Ushijima's limp hand. Shirabu stood from his seat and plucked them from him, his mouth pressed tight to restrain his laughter.

"Now Hijiori can't bother everyone with it," he remarked after he calmed himself. He tucked them beside his bowl and prodded another chunk of tofu in his curry.

Hijiori recomposed himself. "I still need the pencil."

"There's nothing to write down."

"Sometimes there is."

"I don't think so."

Shirabu slid the pencil pieces downstream to Kawanishi's seat at the table. "Throw them away," he told him.

Hijiori got up at the same time as Kawanishi. "Don't."

Shirabu faced Ushijima again, ignoring them as they scrambled to the nearest trashcan. "Ushijima-senpai?"

Ushijima's mouth remained unamused. "I did it wrong, then."

"I wish someone had broken it sooner. Hijiori wouldn't stop talking about how weird it looked." Shirabu bit into his food and chewed. He conducted his chopsticks to tap Ushijima's bowl. There was a second bowl next to the one he was already on, and it had similar contents.

"I feel a little hungrier today." Ushijima reached for it and tilted it to Shirabu. "Do you want some of it? I only want half."

Yamagata chuckled. "That's a lot of food for Shirabu."

Shirabu swallowed and said, "I'll take half of that."

Ushijima nudged it closer and sectioned off the portion onto Shirabu's bowl. "I still have a quarter I don't want."

"Give it to Tendou," Yamagata said.

Ushijima straightened and glanced around. He found Tendou sitting at the table behind him, and he engaged in a brief conversation.

"Are you actually that hungry?" Yamagata asked.

"It's dinner. I'm not going to run right after this." Shirabu eyed a vegetable on his own plate, and he set to eating. Ushijima chose a different meal from him, and he sampled different pieces at a time.

After he finished most of his meal, he groaned, leaning forward and averting his eyes.

"Are you feeling full?" Ushijima asked.

"Not really," Shirabu mumbled.

Ushijima lowered his chopsticks. "You're not the first one to try to eat as much as me."

"People get sick. It's rarely funny," Yamagata said.

Shirabu nodded and pushed his plate away. "I can't eat anymore." He passed his bowl to Hijiori, and Hijiori turned to share it with Akayu.

"You're the one that offered it to him, though." Yamagata shook his head with an upturned quirk of his mouth and ate another bite.

"Do you usually eat this much?" Shirabu asked.

"No. Usually, I eat more than this."

Shirabu rocked back in his seat, locking eye contact with him. "That's...a lot," he finished.

"I'm surprised I'm not hungrier after today's practices."

Shirabu watched him move on to his second bowl, half full with rice and beef. He didn't have anything else to eat, but instead of getting up and leaving, he sipped at his drink. He took slow staggered drinks to keep himself at the table.

Ushijima ate with enthusiasm. He sat contentedly on the bench-seat, his mouth fitting around his food in warm shapes. Shirabu directed his gaze to several other places, but it gravitated back to Ushijima, pinning to his face and the idle ease sloped in his shoulders like hills. The crinkles in his eyes were soft, and together, everything almost composed a smile.

Shirabu collected his plates and stepped out. "I'm done," he announced.

"I'm not done yet, but goodnight, Shirabu."

He regarded Ushijima with a last glance, and he picked up his empty cup to dispense everything and walk away.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu sat on the edge of his cot, tucking his feet out of his slippers and into the sheets. Every part of his body ached. The tired weight of his body pulled him down, and he turned to his side, seconds before the light was turned off.

The welcoming softness of the cot unbridged the tension in his shoulders, his arms and legs spreading in rivers, soreness melting and coursing like a flood. Shirabu could _not_ be convinced to move. He hit heavy fatigue at the bottom already, and everything was starting to feel dark and heavy, too.

"Kenjirou. Kenjirou."

Shirabu could make out a silhouetted head above him. He rolled over.

"Kenjirou, you're going to miss out."

Tendou stepped around his bed and peered at him again. Shirabu flagged his hand at him to discourage him.

"Tendou, he wants to sleep," Ushijima said. His voice swept quiet, but still deep.

The low aggregate of noise filtered through Shirabu's ears and head, and he realized that the room was filling with murmurs. Kawanishi mumbled next to him, and he heard him rummage under his blanket until he sat up.

"What's going on?" Shirabu asked blearily. He twisted his head to look.

"It's _training camp_ ," Tendou pressed. "It's a giant sleepover."

"I've been to sleepovers _and_ camps. I'm not getting up."

"Wakatoshi-kun, help me."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to sleep as well," Ushijima said, calm and polite.

Tendou clicked his tongue. "You're already wide awake."

"Can you two move? You're being loud," Shirabu said.

"Sorry," Ushijima apologized.

At the same time, Tendou said, "The whole room is noisy now."

Shirabu shifted and tugged his pillow out from under his head. He meant to cover his ears with it, but he reconsidered, pausing and looking down at it.

"Tendou, you did this last time."

Shirabu heard Ushijima grunt, and he sat up to check in the dim light. Tendou had stepped closer to Ushijima and thrown his arm around Ushijima's shoulders, balancing on his left foot to Ushijima's side. Ushijima's eyes almost held the same serious neutrality, but the stiffness hitched in his shoulders coded discomfort.

Ushijima relaxed from the surprise. "Tendou."

"How about this, then," Tendou began.

Shirabu ignored Tendou and lifted his pillow. He lobbed it in Tendou's direction, too tired to care about accuracy as long as it _did_ hit him.

Tendou yanked on Ushijima's arm and shielded himself. Ushijima followed Tendou with blank obedience, and his eyes closed for a moment as the pillow connected to his head.

"You hit Wakatoshi-kun!"

Shirabu glanced between them. "You pulled him in the way."

"Your aim was that bad. You need to practice setting more."

Shirabu rubbed his eyes with his hand and forced out a breath.

"Tendou has amazing reflexes," Ushijima remarked.

"...The guess block..." Shirabu grumbled.

Ushijima stooped to collect the pillow. He approached Shirabu and bent to hand it back.

His eyes reflected warm light in the half dark, his face close and attentively quiet. Shirabu accepted it from him and slipped back under the covers.

"Kenjirou, you hurt him. Now you have to pay him back."

"Do I have to pay you back, Ushijima-senpai?" Shirabu asked from his bundled shelter, the layers muffling his voice.

"No."

"I'm taking his word," Shirabu said right after him. He curled and prepared to sleep again.

"You two are... There's a word for you two," Tendou said, his conviction flickering, "and I don't know what it is, but I'll _remember_ it."

"I'm going to sleep."

"Fine. Let's go, Wakatoshi." Their footsteps faded, and Shirabu stretched out in peace, content with the silence. He could still hear them talking in the distance, but he could ignore them.

His eyes opened. Ushijima and Tendou's voices carried farther now, and the surrounding silence told Shirabu that no one else was talking.

"Horse," he heard Tendou say.

"Family."

"Where did you get family from, Wakatoshi?"

"Horses can have families," Ushijima said after a defensive pause.

The team burst out laughing. Shirabu stumbled to his feet, his eyes drowsy but narrowed.

"I can hear you from my _bed_ ," Shirabu complained as he stomped up to them. His bare feet didn't leave any audible impression, just small patters, but his movement drew the attention of the team.

"You should join us, then," Akayu said. Shirabu swiveled to him, and Akayu's unabated grin made him relocate his gaze to Ushijima.

"Weren't you going to sleep, Ushijima-san?"

"Tendou convinced me."

"He's weak to word association games," Tendou added cheerfully.

Shirabu's eyes caught sight of so many people sitting together. He couldn't find Semi, their captain Doumeki, or a good half of the rest of the team, and he assumed they were sleeping. The size of the group and their noise made him question how Washijou or the other adults didn't hear them and come to scold them.

"Do you want to play?" Hijiori asked.

Shirabu cleared his throat and shuffled next to Hijiori and Kawanishi. "For a minute, if this is all you're doing." He folded his legs under himself and kept space from everyone.

"We can tell scary stories next," Tendou said.

Shirabu twitched.

"Are you scared?" Hijiori asked.

"No. Irritable." Shirabu crossed his arms and tightened them.

"Kenjirou, you can't escape now. You're our target." Tendou leaned back on his hands. "What do you think of when you hear 'takoyaki'?"

"Running."

"Why running?"

"I don't think that question's allowed," Shirabu said. "You already asked me one."

"What about 'snow'?" Akayu asked.

"Waterfall."

"Bird," Yutagawa suggested.

"Tree."

"Woodpecker," Yamagata offered.

"Tendou."

Shirabu's mouth lost its amusement when Tendou started laughing instead of getting annoyed. A second year hovered his hands around Tendou's head in the shape of a woodpecker's head, and a few more people snickered quietly.

"Clouds," Akayu said, interrupting the dying bubbles of snickers.

"You already had your turn." Shirabu turned away, and he stopped at Kawanishi.

Kawanishi shrugged, and then said, "Volleyball."

"Ushijima-san," rolled off his lips.

"Stop mentioning people, that'll get boring," Tendou said.

"It was the first thing that came to mind, Tendou-san."

Shirabu glanced at Ushijima and saw him staring back thoughtfully. His eyes shined with less intensity, and his face was smoothed from the usual gravity.

"Dragon," Hijiori said.

"Strength," came automatically. Shirabu coughed and gathered himself up straight.

"Ask him next," Tendou whispered to Ushijima and Reon.

"Dog," a first year asked.

"Walk."

"Magic," Reon said.

Shirabu's eyes flicked to the floor and to the wall, glancing around. "Flying."

"You actually made him stop and think," Yamagata said under his breath to Reon.

"The point is to _not_ think," Reon answered.

Kawanishi leaned to Shirabu. "Were you just looking for a window right now?"

"No."

"I think you were."

Shirabu faced Ushijima, leaving Kawanishi in the background. "You haven't gone yet."

Ushijima rubbed the back of his neck. He briefly looked at the ceiling. "Sleep."

Shirabu's tired mind could only come up with, "Dreams."

"Tea," a third year asked.

"Winter."

"Bakery."

"Warm."

"Kenjirou's gotten boring now. Your turn, Taichi."

"I already went."

"I'll ask," Shirabu said.

"That's not how this works, Kenjirou."

Shirabu gestured at Kawanishi. "Lake."

"I'm not going," Kawanishi answered.

"Pebble," Akayu said.

"I didn't ask you." Shirabu's eyes scanned the group, and he settled on Ushijima. "Chocolate," he suggested.

Ushijima's mouth shifted. His hand pulled away from the side of his head. "Valentine."

"Wakatoshi-kun, that's...romantic," Tendou said, his mouth twisting in a mischievous smile. He hummed questioningly. "I didn't know you had that in you."

"'It's bad for you' was longer than one word," Ushijima answered.

"'Unhealthy' is one word," Yamagata said.

Ushijima lapsed into silence.

Shirabu stirred to direct everyone away. "Sword," he asked Akayu.

"Death."

Shirabu blinked, and his head moved backward. "Death?"

Reon snorted, and the sudden noise strangled into a laugh. A few others copied mild laughter.

"They're both terrifying," Akayu mumbled in defense.

Tendou straightened, his eyes shining as he tapped his hands together. "This is the perfect time for horror stories."

"No," Shirabu muttered.

"There's a hill out on the edge of town," Tendou started, his voice low and humorless. He glanced at Shirabu and Kawanishi as they stood. "You're not listening," he intoned in the same voice.

"Are you going to bed?" Ushijima asked them.

"I am."

"Might as well."

" _One_ story, stay for _one_ ," Tendou said, dropping the tone.

Kawanishi looked between Tendou and Shirabu. Tendou adopted a sudden expression of heartbreak, frowning and pouting at Kawanishi, his mouth drawn down and tight.

Kawanishi threw his glance to the ceiling. "One."

Shirabu wanted to call him a coward, but the sentiment would be lost from Kawanishi having his arm twisted by Tendou to listen to a horror story.

Kawanishi took his seat again, his nose wrinkled as he shook his head. He shifted and crossed his legs.

"Goodnight," Shirabu said.

"You're listening to this with me." Kawanishi reached for his arm.

Shirabu swung it away and brought it to his chest, holding it by his other hand. "No."

"They're rarely scary," Reon said. Despite the blow, Tendou nodded.

"Ushijima-senpai," Shirabu said, looking down to where he was sitting, "do you feel any kind of entertainment from his stories?"

"Yes."

" _Ha,_ " Tendou said.

Shirabu scratched the side of his head and dragged out a long, exasperated breath. "One," he acquiesced. He reclaimed his spot on the floor and placed his arms around his knees. "Hurry up."

Tendou hunched a little, his head lowering slightly with his voice. "There's a hill out on the edge of town," he repeated. "By the small river under a tree."

"I've been there. The tree is a few feet away from the hill, not on it," Hijiori interrupted.

" _By the small river under a tree_."

"Did he memorize this?" Shirabu whispered to Kawanishi, his voice broken by his trembling, muffled laughter.

He looked back up when he noticed the silence, and he discovered both Tendou and Ushijima staring at him. Tendou regarded him with restrained annoyance, but he didn't break narration.

"During the day, it's a pleasant little place under the sun, blessed by Miyagi fortune. But at night, when darkness falls over the houses and fields, the hill turns into a _mystery_. The youkai that lives there is so terrible that it doesn't have a name."

"What if it's cloudy?" Hijiori asked. "What happens then?"

Tendou's head tilted and deferred to Ushijima. He refused to speak out of story again.

"I don't think you should interrupt this often, Hijiori," he said.

"The youkai," Tendou continued, "is so terrifying, so horrible, that invoking what _would_ be its name causes something _catastrophic_ to happen. It can't be seen, either, so you can't tell when it's near. But you can feel it. The air gets colder, and something brushes you, just light enough for you to think you're imagining things.

"It could just be the wind, or leaves, or your hair, or the sleeves of your jacket." Tendou dragged his hand on the floor. His fingers screeched softly on the tile. "It's dark. You can't see. Your heart is beating faster, and you feel something wet, like it came from the river."

Shirabu's eyes drifted away. Tendou's voice and story lost its captivation after Hijiori cut him off the first time. Hijiori was staring ahead in boredom, and he occasionally threw glances to the ceiling and walls, his feet stretched out in front of him and just as unsettled. Akayu sat next to him, his mouth small in his attention.

Ushijima wasn't paying attention to Tendou either. Shirabu's breath fastened in a brief rush of air, and he almost laughed, but his eyes connected with his brain. Ushijima was looking at him.

Ushijima raised an eyebrow. "Is something funny?"

Shirabu pushed through the sound of the question, past the dips and tones of closed space in his voice, low and personal. He remained quiet in the circumstances, and the softness lingered close.

"No."

Ushijima didn't look away. "I heard you snort."

"I choked." Shirabu tore away, and he forced himself to catch part of Tendou's story, half-listening for another comment from Ushijima.

"It was unmistakable," Tendou said. "Something was on his arm, and it wasn't letting go." Tendou traced a line on the floor. "It slithered down, past his elbow, and the air dropped several degrees. He started running. It wasn't letting go."

Shirabu dragged his hand over his eyes, kneading to keep lethargy away. He struggled to hold in a yawn.

"The last thing he felt," Tendou said in an overworked rasp, "was an invincible pressure on his wrist, before _death_." He didn't yell, but his voice rose to a high growl, and he lunged to Shirabu, clasping his wrist with both of his hands.

Shirabu wrenched his hand to himself and shrunk away. The contact already left an impression in him, but he forced himself into pure reaction. " _Tendou_ ," he snapped, his voice lead and stricken and furious. "What-- What is _wrong_ with you?"

Tendou's story mode fell away. "What?" he asked numbly.

Shirabu got up. He feigned a cough and shielded himself with his arms as he strode away, and he dodged a few people on his way to the beds. He continued down the aisles and out the door, and he stopped in the hallway.

He grimaced and glared at his afflicted wrist. It didn't hurt. It never really hurt, but it felt deep and hollow. He could still feel the pressure on the wrist bone, penetrating and shooting sore to his head.

Shirabu brushed his other hand through his hair. He was completely exhausted. If it had just been a brief touch on the arm, or a bump on the way past, it wouldn't have shaken him, but on the bone of his wrist he could feel it linger. It was too _close_ , like it was present all over his arm, uncomfortable, tight on his chest, and Shirabu had to breathe to unfurl the rivulets cloaked in his head.

He reclined against the wall and slid to the floor. Enough minutes had passed for his departure to be more than a storming-out, but he still didn't want to move.

The doors opened, and Tendou stepped his way. "Kenjirou," he said, "what happened?"

Shirabu heard the sincerity mapped thoroughly in his voice. Even the false seriousness he used earlier was gone.

He finally allowed a yawn. His eyes watered with the gesture, overcome with fatigue. "Have you ever heard of the phrase, 'I can feel it in my bones'?"

"Yes," Tendou said, his response spreading out slowly, an answer instead of a question.

"It's a disgusting phrase. It's painful to read."

Tendou leaned over when Shirabu didn't explain. "Kenjirou?"

"I don't like being touched. Especially out of nowhere," Shirabu muttered. Shirabu sunk into the floor, his head coming to rest on top of his knee. He grumbled.

"Hn. I didn't know about it at all." Tendou dragged his foot on the floor in a circle. He stopped, and he stayed quiet for a few moments. "I'm sorry, Kenjirou."

Shirabu's head turned to the side. "I'll forgive you, if you never do it again."

"I won't."

"To anyone. It's irritating."

"To anyone," Tendou repeated.

Shirabu's mouth pressed thin. The easy agreement didn't settle with him completely, but he was drained. He closed his eyes and stood up. His hand rubbed at his forehead. "I'm going to sleep. I'm going to fall asleep this time."

Tendou stepped aside and let him pass through the doors.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu rested against the wall, his backpack and sports bag dumped on the floor, completely packed. The team had just finished cleaning the building and sorting everything away from the week. The last practice was yesterday, and the accumulated fatigue from practices and from staying up last night wore thin on him.

Kawanishi trudged to Shirabu and leaned beside him, releasing his weight into the support of the wall. "That was our week, that was our break," he said. "I don't feel rested at all."

"I don't think I regret it, but I never want to do it again," Shirabu said.

"You don't?" Ushijima asked.

Shirabu's eyes closed, and he gently thudded the side of his head on the wall. "Kawanishi, you didn't tell me he was behind me," he whispered.

"Sorry. I'm tired."

The inflection in his voice stirred a note of apathy instead of sincerity. Shirabu sighed and forced himself to turn.

Reon and Ushijima stood with bags strapped over their shoulders. Reon had one, and Ushijima carried several, effortlessly, balanced despite the weight.

"We're exhausted," Shirabu mumbled, and he gestured at himself and Kawanishi.

"I'm heading out," Reon said, and Ushijima nodded at him.

His gaze lowered to take in Shirabu. "Tendou told me what happened last night. I don't want you to go through that again, either."

Shirabu grumbled, the noise contained to his throat and stretching in a whining hiss. "That's not what I meant. This whole week has just been exhausting."

"Do you feel the same, Kawanishi?"

"A little."

Ushijima's head dipped down, and he gave a small contemplative hum.

"We're going back to our rooms," Shirabu said. A surge of air precipitated in his lungs, already dreading the weight as he lifted his backpack and bag and arranged them on his arms and shoulders. Kawanishi stepped away from the wall and joined him.

Ushijima took a step forward. "Want me to carry yours, Shirabu?"

"Are you sure?"

"You're tired, and I'm not."

Shirabu's chest bumped at the easy display of stamina and strength. Ushijima reached for his bag and backpack without asking him again, taking his limp response for admittance.

"What about mine?" Kawanishi asked.

Ushijima sized him up. "I think you can carry yours."

Shirabu followed behind Ushijima, and he threw a smug smile at Kawanishi.

"Doesn't this mean he's calling you weak?" Kawanishi asked, his voice quiet and deliberate.

"There's a difference between being tired and being weak. I'm too tired to answer this." Shirabu lifted his head from the hushed conversation, and he hurried ahead to guide them when they reached the building.

Kawanishi went his own way to his room, and Ushijima kept with Shirabu to the door of his room. He paused behind Shirabu, watching him unlock and twist the knob.

Shirabu fumbled with it several times. Ushijima stood too tall for him to feel his breath, but the mere presence was enough to warm the space in Shirabu's head.

He pushed the door open with his foot, and Ushijima walked in, slowly, his eyes on Shirabu.

"I'm used to opening the door while carrying things, so I use my foot," Shirabu said.

"That's...not what I'm curious about." Ushijima hefted his bag on the desk. "Where do you want these?"

"You can leave them there." Shirabu rubbed his neck sheepishly.

Ushijima placed the rest beside it and returned to the doorway. "See you at practice, Shirabu."

"Thanks, Ushijima-senpai."

Ushijima acknowledged him with a brief glance and left. Shirabu took his place at his desk and groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Halocline means an area of water with a rapid change in salinity.
> 
> 2\. There's official art somewhere of Ushijima eating a lot, enough for Goshiki to have trouble keeping up, but I don't have a link to that atm.
> 
> 3\. I wanted Tendou to tell a story about youkai since a [satori](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Satori_\(folklore\)) is a type of youkai...


	3. Chapter 3

Shirabu dusted a leaf off himself. The cloudy sky blocked out enough sunlight for a cool windy day, and he capitalized on taking a break outside. The wind rolled across his face, sweeping his bangs and brushing them on his skin, gently. He stretched out and sighed, his feet twisting and stretching to steer the pleasant limber burn up his back.

"How long are you going to stretch in the grass?" Kawanishi asked. "You've been doing that for a while now."

Shirabu shifted and rubbed his cheek against the grass. "I'm trying to sleep."

"It doesn't look comfortable."

"You can go inside."

Kawanishi's feet shuffled in the grass, loud enough for Shirabu to hear. "It's rarely this windy. It's nice."

"Are you going to stand the whole time?"

Kawanishi retraced his steps a little, and he slid his back against a tree.

Shirabu's head turned. "There's sap on the bark, isn't there?"

"I don't feel anything." Kawanishi leaned forward, and his shirt remained stuck to the tree. He grimaced and glared behind himself.

Shirabu resumed his spot in the grass. "You could've sat down."

"I might get grass stains."

"Kawanishi. Your back is glued to a tree."

"It's just sap." Kawanishi shimmied and wrenched himself free. He span in a circle to gauge the damage.

"Your back is brown and orange," Shirabu said.

Kawanishi made his way to Shirabu's side, and he stared down at him. "Is it ruined?"

Shirabu rolled over with a satisfied groan. He arranged his arms in spread-eagle fashion. "I think you can wash it out."

Kawanishi cleared a patch of grass with his foot, tamping it down and scuffing out dirt and rocks. He took a careful seat next to Shirabu and leaned back on his hands.

"I feel wrong, not doing homework," Kawanishi said.

"I'm trying to sleep," Shirabu mumbled.

Kawanishi fell silent. He fidgeted a little, rustling in the grass and leaves, but he didn't say anything.

Shirabu's head still shrouded dark and misty when he blinked awake, his eyes bleary and vision heavy. He glanced up and saw Ushijima and Tendou standing above him, their faces distorted from the angle.

"Kenjirou?"

Shirabu flopped to his other side to avoid them. "Kawanishi is somewhere around here," Shirabu said with a vague wave in the air.

He heard Tendou’s footsteps fade. Ushijima crouched to his feet next to Shirabu. "Still tired?"

"No. I just want to sleep in the good weather."

Ushijima's head tilted back to appraise the sky. "It's not sunny or warm."

"I don't like heat or bright light." Shirabu folded his arms around his head. "It's going to get too hot soon to do this outside."

Ushijima adjusted to sit down. He peered over, and Shirabu sensed his shadow overhead.

"I'm trying to sleep," he said. He breathed a large breath, propelling his lungs through the gust to distract himself from Ushijima.

Ushijima retreated. "Sorry."

Shirabu invoked a wordless noise from his throat and tried to close his eyes, willing Ushijima to move or leave. His bluntness and obliviousness endeared, and it constricted Shirabu at the worst times, but he couldn't appreciate it in his failed sleep. He waved him off.

"Shouldn't you go be with Tendou-san and Kawanishi?" Shirabu asked.

"Tendou and Kawanishi are already in the distance. I think Kawanishi is running."

Shirabu's hand rose and dropped. "Of course."

"Do you normally sleep in the grass like this?" Ushijima asked, his head cocking.

"No."

Shirabu heard him move, and he took that as a cue to go back to napping. He stretched again, his legs pulling down to his curling toes, and his shoulders stiffened until something snapped and cracked in his back. Shirabu relaxed with a soft moan.

"Shirabu?"

"I'm too comfortable. Go talk to Tendou." Shirabu's arm twitched, and he shifted to spread his legs away from each other.

"You don't look comfortable."

"I am." Shirabu inched to a different angle to better shield himself from Ushijima's scrutiny.

Ushijima finally walked away, and Shirabu's tension poured out at once, his thoughts liquefying. He had already slept off his fatigue from golden week, but he still wanted to sleep. His head retained its drowsy weight, and he slipped into daydreaming.

The wrist incident presented limp in his head. He still didn't want to be touched. The rustling feeling of leaves falling over him, or the wind running his hair over his face -- those were sensations he could tolerate and sleep with.

"Kenjirou, you've already slept half an hour. Wake up." Tendou rummaged his foot in the grass to get his attention.

Shirabu dragged himself upright in his seat. "That wasn't half an hour."

"It was," Tendou said. He clapped his hand on Ushijima's shoulder, startling Ushijima out of his fixed gaze at the floor near Shirabu's feet.

Shirabu noticed a suspiciously amused tug in Tendou's mouth, aimed at Ushijima, but he didn't have the energy to piece that one out. He pushed to his feet and stood up. Ushijima looked away from Tendou, his mouth closed and subdued. The oddly serious image of him at that moment shook Shirabu's breath and shoulders and almost made him laugh.

"Tendou wants to go to the park. Do you want to come?" Kawanishi asked.

"Why?"

"I didn't suggest it. Wakatoshi-kun did."

"No. You did."

"Fine. Let's go, before it gets dark." Shirabu patted leaves off his legs and back and looked at Tendou. "Lead the way."

"Eh? Me?"

Ushijima placed his hands to Tendou's back and nudged him. “Tendou, you should start moving."

"Not you too, Wakatoshi."

Tendou slipped forward from his hands. He glanced over them. "You three are going to run when I turn."

Shirabu's face fell. "I didn't think of that."

"You wish you did, though," Kawanishi said.

"Never mind you two. Wakatoshi-kun, come on."

Ushijima hesitated and glanced at Kawanishi and Shirabu.

Tendou grumbled. "You're the one who wanted to go."

"We're going, we're going." Kawanishi started after him, and Shirabu and Ushijima followed.

Tendou remained unresponsive.

"If you're not convinced, you can walk backwards the whole way there," Shirabu said. "You can keep your eyes on us."

"I'm not doing that." Tendou turned around and took the lead. "I'll _trust_ you."

"Now I want to run," Shirabu said to Kawanishi. His eyes continued past him to Ushijima, and he closed his mouth.

"You should wait until practice tomorrow for running," Ushijima said.

Shirabu laughed. He lowered his head to cover his mouth, barely muffling it, and his breath filtered around his fingers in snorts.

Ushijima raised an eyebrow. "I was being serious."

Shirabu quieted and wiped his hand over his arm. Ushijima didn't remove his gaze for a few moments, but the seriousness didn't reach the same wavelength as his eyes. The intentness in them didn't intensify, they were just that -- intent, watching him laugh.

"Have you ever been to the park?" Tendou asked.

"Yes, I have," Kawanishi answered dully.

"I meant _this_ park."

After a pause, Kawanishi said, "No."

"Do you two ever do anything fun?"

"We've only been here a few weeks," Shirabu said.

"Too bad."

Ushijima's head turned. "The cherry blossoms are in bloom," he noted, his eyes flicking up to the tree branches. “The azaleas are here again, too,” he said after a glance to a few bushes.

Kawanishi snorted. "It sounds like he's making weather small talk," he said to Shirabu.

Shirabu stepped ahead of him and turned his head to Ushijima. “The cherry blossoms have been in bloom for a week or two now," he said.

Ushijima scanned the fields and trees in the distance, out to the horizon. "It looks nice," he said, pausing slightly to find an adjective.

"It does," Shirabu agreed.

"You're both _boring_ ," Tendou said.

"We can leave."

"At least say something interesting about them,” Tendou countered.

"I'm allergic to pollen," Kawanishi said.

Tendou regarded him with a quiet, wide-eyed look. "Taichi. I thought you had me in your best interests."

"What are you talking about?"

Tendou covered his eyes in the inner crook of his arm. "I've been afflicted. Taichi infected me," he wailed.

"What are you _talking_ about," Kawanishi repeated, his voice dropping flat.

"It's contagious."

" _Allergies_ aren't _contagious_."

Kawanishi grasped his shoulders and shook him. Tendou continued to complain and grieve, letting himself be jostled, his head lolling with his movements.

"Do you have any allergies?" Ushijima asked as Tendou and Kawanishi argued.

"No. Do you?"

His eyes shifted away. "No."

Shirabu's mouth drew small in confusion. He was tempted to ask about it, since it sounded like Ushijima was lying, badly, but Ushijima turned to glimpse the scenery again, and Shirabu did the same.

There were so many trees that waves of pink and white flourished in the breeze. The town had a lot of trees in general, patterning the earth so much that houses were built around them, and they formed thickets in between streets and houses, but the tides of blooming cherry trees overwhelmed the green sycamores, maples, oaks, and elms. Branches of cherry blossoms extended above their heads, and above fences and lampposts in the sidewalks.

By now Tendou had extricated himself from Kawanishi, and he was flapping his arms under the cherry trees, disturbing the falling petals with artificial gusts. Kawanishi trailed behind him. The petals on the floor stirred with his footsteps, and they crinkled again under Ushijima and Shirabu's feet as they passed.

"Shouldn't we have brought food for a picnic?" Shirabu asked.

"This isn't a picnic," Tendou said.

"Then what are we going to do?"

"We're going to the park."

"What are we going to _do_ there?"

"We're going. It's an outing."

Shirabu let his head fall back, staring at the sky. He met cherry blossoms instead, and a few petals fell into his open mouth. He spluttered and coughed them out into his hand.

"They're falling a lot now. The season's going to end soon," Ushijima remarked. He watched Shirabu clap his hands together to spill the petals onto the floor.

"I could see them through windows. I didn't miss them."

"Shirabu, that's not viewing them." Ushijima's head tilted, his eyes and voice stern.

"I saw them fine." Shirabu looked up at him. He held a steady gaze. The height difference between them altered his view as he took in the sky behind Ushijima at a diagonal angle. As he shifted to take in Ushijima himself, Ushijima’s eyes lowered to meet Shirabu, and his head dipped down from above.

Ushijima bent closer, dominating Shirabu's vision for a moment. He carefully plucked a couple petals from Shirabu's hair. The touch was so light Shirabu didn't even feel it, only the consequence of it, just the slightest pull of his hair in the tips of Ushijima's fingers, featherlight and wind-like in pressure.

Ushijima stepped back. He presented the petals in his hands. Shirabu's head fell slightly to the side, following the fall of his hand for a second.

"What about Tendou and Kawanishi?" Shirabu asked, but as he looked, he saw that they were running so much that the petals fell off.

Ushijima dropped the petals in the dirt and followed after Shirabu. He stood still. "What?"

"You have...never mind." Shirabu ignored him and continued walking. Either the petals in Ushijima's hair would fall off too, or they'd stay, and Shirabu could view them until he went home.

Cherry blossom season was ending soon, as Ushijima had said, and the park was filled with procrastinating revelers on picnics and in small gatherings under the trees. The area was flooded with both petal-clouded tree branches and carpets of petals on the floor, interspersed with stretches of grass and blankets. Clumps of flowers mottled the pond shore, and the sides of benches and paths.

Tendou pointed at a dog sitting on its haunches beside someone. It turned at the group's approach, wagging its tail and opening its mouth for its tongue to loll out.

Shirabu sat down.

"Are you really going to sleep again?" Kawanishi asked.

"I'm only sitting," Shirabu said, his head turning up to stare at him.

Kawanishi dug his feet into the ground. Shirabu almost expected him to relocate to a bench, but he nudged together a pile of petals and leaves, and he spread them out enough to cover the dirt.

Tendou marveled at him. "A blanket out of leaves? That's inventive. Festive." He waved at Kawanishi to scoot, and he usurped a place next to him.

"Where's Ushijima-san?" Shirabu asked.

Tendou shrugged. "I don't know."

"How can you not care?"

"I care. He'll come back."

Shirabu squared his shoulders and pinched his mouth together, and his hands circled his knees. He squinted at the treetops. His eyes traced the branches down to their tips, getting lost in them like a maze. He fell quiet beside Kawanishi and Tendou's conversation.

After a few minutes, he heard footsteps amplified by the crunching of leaves, and the three of them swiveled. Ushijima had a cat in his arms.

"Ushijima-san, why did you...where did you find that?" Shirabu asked.

Tendou couldn't stop laughing. He wordlessly pointed at Ushijima's face. Ushijima's eyes were red and watery, and his chest carried uneven breaths, in sync with his stuffy nose.

"I heard meowing near a tree," Ushijima explained, his voice interrupted by sniffling.

"Are you crying?" Kawanishi asked. "Or is that...allergies..."

Shirabu's hand slid to his forehead, half-covering an eye. "You're allergic to cats..."

Ushijima's arms shifted around the cat. It was meowing softly, its eyes halfway closed with its head nuzzling into Ushijima's arm. Its tail floated in a lazy side to side pattern.

Shirabu watched him approach them and sit down beside them. "Was it stuck in a tree?"

"Its paw was caught in the crack of a bench." Ushijima rearranged it in his lap. His hand smoothed over its head, and it lifted its head to rub under his hand, its feet edging forward for balance.

Shirabu's eyes flitted to a wooden bench a few feet away. The crack in the wood was large enough to be seen from their seats.

"Ushijima-san. You have to let it go. You look miserable," Shirabu said.

Ushijima's nose and mouth were wrinkled in quiet suffering. His eyes narrowed in the torment.

Shirabu twisted to Kawanishi. "Where're your allergies now? He'd let it go if you said you're allergic to cats, too."

"Why me? Just pretend you're allergic."

"I don't have allergies."

"I'm not allergic to cats."

"I already released it." Ushijima's hands withdrew, and the cat bounded off his legs. It settled next to him and rubbed against his side with a purr.

"That's not what I meant. Make it go away." Shirabu slid closer and swept his hand to dismiss it.

It didn't hiss, but its purring stopped, and its eyes opened in slits. Shirabu hesitated.

Ushijima lifted it and moved it out of reach. "There."

"We should move," Shirabu said. "That's not far enough."

"After all the trouble Taichi went through to make the leaf blanket?" Tendou asked.

Kawanishi was the first to stand up. "I'm moving."

Ushijima and Shirabu followed, and Tendou gave a mild glare from the floor. He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. "None of you like cats, then. Except for Wakatoshi."

"It was bothering him," Shirabu insisted.

Ushijima wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his shirt behind him.

"You have a point," Tendou admitted. "Fine. Let's go to that bench near the water."

"Better." Shirabu walked ahead, and Ushijima went with him, going past the bench when Shirabu sat down. He stopped at the shoreline and stared down at the water.

His hands brushed over his hair. "I have petals in my hair, and no one told me."

"We didn't want to," Tendou said.

Ushijima frowned. "Why not?"

Tendou's mouth opened, and he stopped in his movement for the seat on the bench beside Shirabu. Kawanishi was already sitting with him, and there was only room for one more if they all squeezed together.

Shirabu sensed the slightest hesitation in him, a silent question, and he stood up. "Just take the seat."

"Thanks, Kenjirou." His voice hit a sing-song note of gratitude, swaying with his momentum as he flopped into the bench, and it compelled Shirabu to redirect his attention back to Ushijima and the pond.

Shirabu crept closer to the water. He could see his shimmering reflection staring back at him, stoic yet short beside Ushijima. It sunk the edges of his mouth.

Even in the water, Ushijima's form was calm, an unwavering reflection that didn't ripple with the wind like Shirabu's. There was so much of him, so much height and width, that the flashes and distortions in his reflection weren't noticeable to Shirabu until he stared hard.

"Shirabu?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really not like cats?"

Shirabu's breath rushed out of him in a snort. "I do. I don't like seeing you sick."

"I don't think I'd like to see you sick, either."

Shirabu collected his thoughts to that one sentence, the way Ushijima's voice held steady down to the facsimile of his reflection.

 

* * *

 

Tests started filling in the calendar. Admittedly, Shirabu was doing fine, but he still felt a driving unease that was unacceptable and unable to be quieted, and he dragged himself to the library. He slogged through homework and books again and hoarded a table in the corner to study. He chose a table away from the windows, a place that was darker with less glare from the glass.

Shirabu heard the rustling of an opening backpack, and when he found Tendou standing in front of him, he stopped writing.

"Fate brought me here," Tendou offered as an explanation.

"I'm really trying to study," Shirabu whispered, his voice bristled.

"Last time wasn't serious, then?"

Shirabu kept his eyes level. "I'm working _harder_."

"It's alright, but I don't need your help."

"That's not close to anything I said."

Tendou was already sitting by then, and Shirabu gave up. He pulled his books closer, pointedly.

"That'll keep them safe," Tendou said as he watched.

"Tendou-san."

“Quiet, quiet." Tendou bent his head to his notebook, and the settling silence made Shirabu relax.

Shirabu managed to study for an hour and a half without interruption, the only disturbances coming from himself when he gave himself a break. After that, Shirabu lost track of the time until he heard Tendou’s hand lightly tap the table.

"Psst."

"You already have my attention," Shirabu whispered. His head turned slightly to the side, but he didn’t remove his eyes from his notebook.

Tendou tilted his head, his arms folding to signal his seriousness. "I wonder…"

"I don't have all day.” Shirabu continued writing, but he slowed down. He was unable to understand what he was reading when he was trying to listen at the same time.

"I was about to finish. I wonder, if you're starting to feel pressure."

"From _what_."

"Wakatoshi. After all, he keeps approaching you the most, out of all the other first years. Sounds like it's getting to you."

"No it's not." Shirabu readjusted his arms back on the table to pay attention to his homework again.

"Stop staring at him, then."

Shirabu let out a low breath that ended in a wordless grumble.

"It's your own fault. Didn't you know? Wakatoshi remembers you from when you were in junior high. The fact that you told him you wanted to go to Shiratorizawa and then _did_ means he's going to take the rest of what you said seriously now, too. As a setter. Since that's what you told him."

"He said he's not _going_ to take me seriously," Shirabu said.

"Then you'll have to forgive him. He's a little dense."

Shirabu sighed. "Please stop talking now."

"Anything for a kouhai." Tendou looked down and sunk back into his studying.

Shirabu gave him a long baffled stare when he wasn't looking.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu wanted to sleep. He was pushing himself to finish homework in between classes and practice, and he wanted everything to happen smoothly, but in the moment he wanted nothing other than sleep. He drowsily walked home from practice, his hands pressing over his eyes and rubbing over his neck. He just had to walk home, but the brief walk was stretching into kilometers. Shirabu was too tired to gripe about it to himself.

Shirabu came to a stop at a bench to tie his shoe. He stood up and yawned, and he leaned forward a little and pressed his fingers over his forehead. He looked to the side on a whim, blearily making out a shape of a person near his side, and he lowered his hand when he recognized Ushijima.

"Ushijima-senpai."

Ushijima's head bent down. "Heading home?"

The light from the lamppost glowed across his face softly, steadily casting light over the both of them. Ushijima looked tired, his eyelids lower and gentler than normal, but he wasn't slouching or yawning. His eyes still carried a level calmness.

“Yes,” Shirabu said. He turned so he didn't have to completely look Ushijima in the eye. He glanced up from the side. Ushijima was taller than him, and the shadows falling over his shoulders and over Shirabu were dark and quiet. Shirabu was relaxed enough to set his eyes on Ushijima's face, fixing on the strong curves framing his jaw and the lines of his mouth, slight crinkles around his eyes lifted up. Under the moonlight, Ushijima’s presence retreated within himself, a person instead of a dominating force expanding across the court. Contained within himself, like a god forced into form.

Ushijima tightened his jacket around himself from his hands in the pockets. His sports jacket came to his waist, resting above his pants and unzipped over his stomach. Shirabu had never seen him outside of his jersey, practice clothes, or school uniform, and this was how he usually looked in clothes, plain and unbothered. Shirabu found it hard to imagine him in casual clothes.

"You look tired," Shirabu said.

"I am."

Shirabu tucked his chin down. He was too exhausted to carry a conversation. He dragged his hand over his neck and faced away, pressing his lips together and willing a few steps into a walk. They crossed the path to the dorms together, and Shirabu instinctively picked up his pace to walk beside Ushijima.

The mild May air chilled under the wind, blowing in slight gusts that rattled passing branches. Even in the cool night, Shirabu's neck itched warm and uncomfortable as they turned a corner. The feeling of heat rising out of his skin made him prickle and pull off his jacket.

Ushijima drew his head down to glance at him. "Something wrong?"

"It's getting hot." Shirabu fumbled with his jacket and crammed it into a ball in his hands. He huffed, and the puff of air disturbed his hair, blowing his bangs away. They drifted and settled back over his forehead. Shirabu's eyes took it in with an annoyed, almost apathetic resignation, and they narrowed and returning to staring ahead.

Ushijima walked forward and opened the door to the building, and he stepped aside to let Shirabu pass. Shirabu hesitated inside, half-turned and wondering if he should say something, but he couldn't decide until the door shut. Ushijima kept walking down the hall, and Shirabu's eyes followed, barely-aware and drifting in the motion of watching.

 

* * *

 

Inter High was in a couple weeks. Shirabu practiced hard to keep up with everyone and improve his setting, but he knew that he wasn't going to play on the court for any of the first few matches.

Kawanishi spiked one of his tosses down, shooting it to the floor over the net. He stepped away and wiped sweat off his neck. Akayu raised his arms in the air, vicariously living victory through them with an encouraging cheer. After a moment, he stooped to pick up his water bottle, and he resumed drinking at a leisure pace.

"Your sets are getting easier to spike," Kawanishi said.

"That's a little vague."

"It's a compliment, not criticism."

"Say something specific, then." Shirabu wrenched another volleyball away from the supply cart and turned back, and he motioned at the space in front of him for Kawanishi to prepare again.

Kawanishi's legs bent, his arms swinging back for the spike. His foot skidded, and he stopped abruptly at the sight of Tendou and Semi behind Shirabu.

"Don't mind us. We're just here to watch," Tendou said with a wave.

Shirabu's mouth tightened under the slight pressure, but he moved away to ignore them. He nodded and tossed to Kawanishi, and he relaxed in relief as the spike connected smoothly, landing on the floor on the other side of the court.

Semi opened his mouth, but Tendou interrupted him and spoke up. "It's not exciting without a blocker." He stepped around the net, his head high with a light grin. He waggled his arm at Shirabu. "Now set."

"Move," Shirabu said.

"After you toss."

"Just agree. He'll never back down," Semi said. He shifted his weight to his other foot and crossed his arms.

Shirabu picked up a volleyball. "I'd rather have Semi-san block," he mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Semi asked.

"Nothing." Shirabu glanced at Kawanishi to alert him, and he lifted his arms and set the ball in an arc. It floated above Kawanishi as his arms swung.

Tendou slid in and cleanly blocked it, his hands spreading and stopping the spike dead. The ball bounced back and thumped on the floor next to Kawanishi's feet.

Shirabu pressed his mouth to the side as Tendou raised his arms in the air triumphantly.

"Are you done?" Semi asked Tendou.

Tendou turned, his arms still up but with less enthusiasm, lower and bent to drop. "Why don't you set to me, and see how good these first years are at blocking?"

"Why?" Kawanishi asked.

"You can't block and spike each other forever. You'll stagnate." Tendou walked off the court to pull on Semi's hands and yank him in front of the net. He raised Semi's arms to block, and then stepped beside him and mimicked him, intentionally making a poor block to mock Semi's halfhearted one.

Kawanishi rested his hand in his other hand, brushing his thumb over his fingers. Shirabu didn't realize what he was doing until he moved closer to block. Kawanishi was saying goodbye to his fingers, mumbling it but still saying it out loud. Shirabu ignored him, too.

"Let's get this over with," Shirabu said. He raised his arms as well and bent his knees to tense for the jump.

Semi set the ball, but Shirabu didn't have the time to watch and dissect it. He leapt up with Kawanishi to block, and the motion drew in Shirabu's focus, eroding it into instinct.

Their timing matched the spike well enough to fit their hands to the ball, but it still flew past. The spike knocked their hands away as it flew in between them. Tendou shot his arms up again, enthusiastic even against Shirabu's pointed glance.

"Scoooore!"

"You scored against two first years. Happy now?" Semi asked. He turned slightly away and let his arms fall, lowering them by his waist to shake and loosen them.

"Now I can't say I am." Tendou turned away and walked up to the net, resting his hands on it. "Well?" he asked Shirabu and Kawanishi.

"Well what?” Shirabu asked.

Tendou's grin returned, and he turned his head up and walked away, his hands swinging cheerfully.

Shirabu lifted his head to Kawanishi. "What did he just say?"

Kawanishi opened his mouth, but he raised his eyebrows in confusion and also turned and stepped away. Shirabu remained in front of the net with his hands clasped in his shirt, blinking after them and completely silent.

"Well done."

Shirabu backed away. Ushijima stood behind him, still looking out over the part of the court the four of them had played with. The rest of the court was being used by other players in the idle time.

"Keep them away until they're serious about playing with us," Shirabu said.

"Tendou and Semi were both being serious."

"I don't think so." Shirabu shuffled away to bend down and pick up a ball. Shirabu stepped around Ushijima and dumped it in the cart, and he stood back up. Ushijima was standing in the same place, looking at him and not moving. "Ushijima-senpai?"

Ushijima pursed his lips in a slight frown. "Hm?"

Shirabu shook his head and pushed on the cart. "What's wrong with everyone today?" he asked in a mumble.

Ushijima moved to keep up with him. "You don't have to keep calling me senpai. It's a useless formality."

Shirabu paused and looked him in the eye. "Ushijima-senpai," he said, "it's fine."

Ushijima's eyes deepened with his furrowing eyebrows. Shirabu kept walking and moved on. He pushed the cart away, and when Washijou called everyone into a group for the end of practice, he left it in place and walked over.

"Inter High is right around the corner, but don't forget about the upcoming practice matches. Or about any tests you have," Washijou added. "I don't want to hear about someone failing and having to miss practice to make up for it."

Shirabu stood and listened silently until Washijou finished the preemptive chastisement. At the dismissal, he moved back to the supply cart and finished returning it to the closet, and Hijiori and a third year passed by to bring in a folded volleyball net.

Kawanishi stepped next to him as he reached for a mop from the closet. Shirabu raised an eyebrow.

"Ushijima-san's been giving you a weird look," Kawanishi said, his hand on the mop handle to tug it out. He grunted and pulled, stumbling a little from the sudden release when he freed it.

"He told me to stop calling him senpai, and I did it anyway."

Kawanishi sighed. "That sounds really pointless."

"I know."

"I don't think you get what I said."

"I do," Shirabu said. He flicked his eyes to the mop, tempted to yank it away from Kawanishi and see what he'd do, but he decided against it and turned to help with something else.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu opened his backpack and found the lip balm he borrowed from Ushijima during golden week. He wasn't surprised to find it, but it brought him back to the memory. He never returned it.

He fiddled with it for a minute. Plain labelling wrapped around it, faded from use. Shirabu twisted the cap off and found the balm softened around the edges. He burned with the realization that Ushijima had to have used it, and he pushed it away and tried to forget it for the rest of the time in the library.

Tendou leaned over. "Is there something special about that?"

"No."

"You keep looking at it."

“Were you watching me?"

Tendou sat back in his chair. "You have a comeback for everything." He made a forceful sigh.

Shirabu grumbled and worked his thoughts through what Ushijima and Kawanishi said the other day. He didn't call Tendou senpai at all. He thought it would backfire with Tendou somehow, maybe make him gloat or laugh or goad Shirabu into doing it again. Tendou probably wouldn't even try to do it, it'd just happen.

"Tendou-senpai, be quiet. I'm trying to study."

Tendou's mouth twitched, but he only eyed him. "That sounded wrong."

"No it didn't."

"You're never an agreeable kouhai. It sounds wrong from you."

Shirabu looked away, his eyes narrowing.

"But you should see Wakatoshi-kun. You sound _sincere_. It surprises him." Tendou snickered into his hand.

"It does?"

"And he's never going to admit it," Tendou continued, in a rush from trying not to laugh.

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Don't say something you're not going to explain," Shirabu snapped.

Tendou returned to writing, his mouth lifting and his head tilting contentedly.

Shirabu didn't notice time fly by. After an hour, someone shook his chair, and it jolted him up. Shirabu's wild and bleary eyes found Kawanishi standing in front of his table, his hands pulling away.

"Were you asleep?" Kawanishi asked in a whisper.

"I pretended to not notice," Tendou said.

"You're supposed to wake someone up when that happens," Shirabu said to him.

Tendou turned to Kawanishi, his arms flattening and hands linking together, eyes blinking wider. "So, you're at the library."

"You _always_ see me here. Stop trying to sound surprised."

Kawanishi slid into a seat, and Shirabu grunted and brought his hand to his forehead, dropping his pencil.

"You're disturbing Shirabu Kenjirou," Tendou whispered to Kawanishi.

"Why did you say his full name?"

"I really want to study in peace," Shirabu said, leaning forward to get their attention. Tendou waved him off.

"Are you bothering Shirabu too?" Kawanishi asked Tendou.

"I'm getting to know him, the way a friend does."

"You're not my friend," Shirabu said.

"I meant Wakatoshi's friend."

"Why is that relevant? He's not here," Kawanishi said.

"If Wakatoshi is interested in a setter, then it's my job to investigate him. That's how great a friend I am."

"Kawanishi, are _you_ friends with him?" Shirabu asked, gesturing at Tendou.

“I don’t think so. He bothers me. Sometimes in the library."

Tendou stood straighter. He dropped his hand on Kawanishi's shoulder, his smile hardening. The wrinkling fabric told Shirabu that his hand was tightening on Kawanishi.

"I don't bother you. You bother _me_."

"Then leave me alone."

"You still owe me."

"I bought you the wrong flavor, who cares. I'm not buying you more," Kawanishi said.

Shirabu wanted to ask what they meant, but he felt too exasperated to care. He shuffled papers around and closed a book to reach for another as they argued, apparently about Kawanishi buying him strawberry ice cream by accident. They still managed to whisper without hissing, and they sounded serious without genuinely getting mad.

"You're disturbing everyone," Shirabu said to them, and he shook Kawanishi's book to alert him.

"I'm not leaving you alone until you pay."

"Don't leave me alone, then," Kawanishi challenged.

A fourth chair scraped the floor after a trail of footsteps led to them.

"I heard your voices. You're loud for students studying in a library," Ushijima said.

“Wakatoshi-kun!" Tendou managed to exclaim in a whisper. “Take Taichi's chair."

Ushijima continued pulling out the one he already had his hands on, and he sat down beside Shirabu.

"It's already taken," Ushijima said to quell Tendou's betrayed look.

Shirabu took the chance to lean to Kawanishi. "What did you mean, 'Are you bothering Shirabu too'?"

"I keep finding him in the library. I ate with him once, and he hasn't let anything go since."

Shirabu's hands fell to the desk. "I didn't realize he goes to the library so often."

Kawanishi shrugged. "Everyone here is smart. I'm not surprised that everyone studies a lot. Or he's so far behind that he's always trying to catch up."

Tendou leaned a few centimeters to the side. "Are you listening to this, Wakatoshi?" he asked.

"I heard."

"Are you going to let him?"

"Let him do what?"

Tendou was driven speechless, and he worked his mouth through wordless irritated noises before giving up.

Shirabu started to feel crowded at the table. It was meant for four, and usually he sat in one corner while someone else took the other corner, the furthest point away from him. Tendou was still in the corner now, but Kawanishi was next to Tendou, and Ushijima sat next to him. There was sufficient space between them to work without touching, even as Ushijima bent his arms and leaned over to his school bag to procure a notebook and pen. Shirabu watched from the periphery, his writing halting as he made sure Ushijima had enough room.

Ushijima returning to sitting upright, and Shirabu stilled. He could sense Ushijima's arm resting on the desk, radiating warmth somehow through kindred space. The hyperawareness alone left Shirabu’s arm tingling with receptivity. It was undeniable. And the sheer impression of Ushijima’s presence almost reified his gravity, resonating with the effect of a small wave in a lake, for all Shirabu knew.

Shirabu stopped writing completely and glared into the paper.

 

* * *

 

There were only a few days left until inter high. Shirabu knew Ushijima and the other starting members were training harder in the days to come, not necessarily running and practicing more but focusing and pushing themselves more. Shirabu kept up with his studies as well as he practiced, and he watched as Ushijima and Tendou spiked other setters' tosses, including Semi's.

"Kawanishi. Kawanishi, are you listening?"

Shirabu snapped his fingers, shaking him out of his thoughts in the middle of practice.

"I'm listening. You wanted a receive."

"How did you do that? You weren't listening at all."

"Yes I was."

Shirabu grunted in disbelief and stepped away. "Just throw the ball."

Yamagata noticed Shirabu and Kawanishi practicing receives, and he stopped near them when he saw a ball fly to the side from Kawanishi's receive.

"He's better than this," Shirabu said to Yamagata. Shirabu fixed Kawanishi with a serious look.

"I'm _completely_ paying attention," Kawanishi said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"That was a little sarcastic."

Yamagata's mouth tightened and twitched like he wanted to laugh, but not hard enough for it to actually happen. He waved at them to continue and walked away to join other second years.

"You haven't been paying attention all day," Shirabu said.

Kawanishi turned and faced him. "Have you thought about what might happen after inter high?"

Shirabu's shoulders fell and settled as he thought it over. "No. What do you mean?"

"After inter high, some of the third years are going to leave the team. That'll leave more room for new members."

"And your answer to that is spacing out?"

"Well…"

Shirabu shook his head in warning and crouched down to pick up a volleyball. “You should pay attention."

Kawanishi mumbled and returned to bending his legs for a receive. They went through receives with other players and fell into actual regimented drills when Washijou returned to the gym from a phone call. They broke into lines and started receiving volleyballs from managers and from each other, running to the end of the line and resting during the brief break before receiving again.

Shirabu stood behind Ushijima and watched him dive for a receive and land on his hands. He wasn't as swift and adept as Yamagata, and it didn't fall back to the thrower accurately, but it was enough to return it into the air. Shirabu's eyes flicked to him to watch, fixing on his legs bending and feet braking, his leg muscle tight and firm in the movement. The ball flew up in an arc back to the manager, and Shirabu waited for it to be thrown back. He took off and leaped across, his hands clasping and arms hooking to send it back up. At the end of the dive, Shirabu stood up and ran around to the end of the line.

Ushijima turned as Shirabu rested his hands on his knees and breathed, sucking in air heavily and straightening after a moment.

"Yamagata told me you're a good receiver," Ushijima said.

Shirabu raised his head to look at him. Ushijima was sweating from his neck and forehead, but he wasn't tired at all. He brushed his hand over his forehead to wipe some away.

"I didn't know he thought that." Shirabu stepped forward as the line moved, and he glanced at the ground, thinking about what Tendou told him the other day. Calling Ushijima _senpai_ caught him off guard. It didn't bother him enough to demand that first years stop, but it put pressure on him and made him hesitate.

"I think you're good at receiving too, Ushijima-senpai," Shirabu said carefully.

Ushijima's nose wrinkled, his eyes flickering and looking down at Shirabu, and Shirabu had to look away slightly and press his hand to his mouth to stifle a snort. Ushijima shifted on his feet, and it was barely fidgeting, but it was enough to remind Shirabu of Kawanishi. Kawanishi fiddled with his hands quietly to try to make Shirabu move on or forget something, like a rare failed spike. Ushijima was even quieter, and still looking at Shirabu, with narrowed but confused eyes. Shirabu couldn't look away completely.

Shirabu stepped closer. "You're next."

Ushijima turned, and his indecisiveness cleared to focus on practice. Shirabu watched him run again with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu stared at the bowl of ramen in front of him. He was hungry, but he was also deep in thought, swirling his chopsticks in the bowl and looking past them.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Akayu asked.

"I'm taking my time."

Kawanishi looked down at his bowl, mimicking Shirabu for a moment. He lifted a clump of noodles to his mouth. Kawanishi, Akayu, Hijiori, and Shirabu had agreed to eat at a local ramen shop on the weekend after practice, but Shirabu's mind was on the rest of the year. Kawanishi was right; a couple of the third years left to start studying for college entrance exams, and there was room on the team for starting members.

Shirabu flicked his chopsticks and dropped them in the bowl. "Thanks a lot,” he said, directed at Kawanishi.

"What for?"

Shirabu slid his drink around on the table. "I'm thinking about what you said. There’s going to be room on the team for more starting players."

"Oh, that. I stopped dreaming a while ago."

"You told it to me recently."

"Yeah, well." Kawanishi stuffed more noodles into his mouth.

"Next year, then,” Shirabu said.

Hijiori shook his head. “I didn’t have my hopes up about it at all. I know I can’t make the team as a starter."

“How can you be so sure?” Akayu asked.

“I _know_."

“You just know? Are you psychic?” Shirabu sipped from his drink and awaited his answer.

“Yes,” Hijiori said with complete seriousness.

“What kind of psychic?” Akayu pressed.

“There’s more than one kind?” Shirabu asked.

“There's visions or dreams, and reading minds."

“He said he just knows. That’s intuition."

Hijiori's face fell when Shirabu and Akayu kept arguing beyond his point.

“What about eggs?” Shirabu asked.

“ _Eggs_.” Akayu’s chopsticks lowered to his bowl.

Shirabu continued, “It’s called ovomancy."

“You two are just playing with me,” Hijiori said.

Kawanishi chewed and swallowed. "I think we got off track about something."

Shirabu shrugged. "I don't remember what we were talking about."

Kawanishi sat up. "Oh. Right. Aren't you going to eat? You've been staring at your food for a while."

"Do you really want to go in a circle again?" Shirabu asked.

The door opened, but Shirabu didn't bother to look, even though their table was near the entrance. He leaned into his hand, and he finally picked up food with his chopsticks and nibbled.

Kawanishi straightened more, glancing up above Shirabu. "Shirabu--"

"It's a surprise!" Tendou leaned over from the side, his eyes wide with a curious grin.

Shirabu turned away. "I'm taking my time eating," he told Kawanishi.

"You just told us not to repeat the conversation,” Hijiori said.

"I'm legitimately starting to forget what we were talking about," Shirabu said.

Tendou's arms fell. "You four sound amazingly dull."

Ushijima stepped in beside Tendou, and Shirabu did a double take, sliding away in surprise.

"Tendou wanted to eat here," Ushijima said.

Shirabu looked at Tendou. "It's your fault?"

"For what?" Tendou asked. He slid down beside Kawanishi, forcing him to switch to another chair without asking or gesturing to move. Kawanishi looked at him with a silent stare. He faced him with almost blank eyes.

Shirabu scooted away himself, leaving a chair open for Ushijima to sit in. Ushijima sat down and rested his arms on the table, and Shirabu gathered his hands to himself, away from Ushijima.

"So, what were you talking about?" Tendou asked.

Akayu glanced at Shirabu. "Nothing."

Shirabu ate even slower to wait for Ushijima and Tendou to order and start eating. He shifted and fumbled in his seat as he listened to Kawanishi and Tendou argue with Akayu and Hijiori, as quiet as Ushijima next to him. Shirabu's ramen was starting to get cold, but he still blew on it and ate to stall.

Shirabu skimmed his eyes over Ushijima. He was wearing casual clothes for once, and every time, Shirabu became determined to remember. They were plain clothes, an ordinary short-sleeved shirt with pants, but it was startling seeing him in them. Shirabu kept glancing at them.

"Do you eat here often?" Ushijima asked Shirabu.

"No. Kawanishi forced me to."

"No I didn't."

"You didn't want to eat alone," Shirabu said, “and you asked us to come." It was a lie, but it was worth seeing Kawanishi grimace as Tendou perked up next to him, taking it in as ammunition.

"Lonely, Kawanishi?" Tendou asked him with an elbow nudge.

"No," Kawanishi said flatly. He maintained eye contact with Shirabu. "Shirabu, _you’re_ the one that suggested ramen."

"I thought you asked for ramen,” Shirabu said.

“Didn’t you want ramen?” Akayu asked.

"I said I liked it. That's it."

Shirabu pushed his bowl away. It was mostly empty, and by now it was too cold to enjoy. He switched to sipping on his drink and eyeing Tendou and Ushijima.

Tendou pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, his hand remaining on it before unveiling it. "Here's your cure, Kawanishi."

"Don't give me your phone number."

"No. Give me yours," Tendou said.

"No."

"This is why you're lonely."

Hijiori leaned to Akayu. “Don’t give him Kawanishi’s number,” he whispered.

“Why would I?"

Shirabu removed his hands from his neck and glanced away. Ushijima was listening to them attentively, but he wasn't saying anything, either.

"Are you finished, too?" Shirabu asked Ushijima, pointing at his plate.

"Yes, but I'm waiting for Tendou to finish."

Shirabu crossed his arms and turned his mouth to his shoulder, pretending to look completely away from everyone. He glanced at Ushijima out of the corner of his eye. Ushijima didn't seem to notice. He was still giving Tendou and Kawanishi sincere attention, and it made Shirabu's mouth twitch and struggle to stay neutral.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu stood on the sideline and watched Shiratorizawa crush the first couple competitors at inter high. Shirabu's hands were tight on his arms; not from the intensity of the matches, but from Ushijima's spikes and serves. Tendou was on the court too, but Shirabu only watched Ushijima, and watched him spike. Shirabu swore that he could never get tired of seeing him jump and spike. Ushijima's blocks were strong, too, his arms stretching up and walling the ball in. Ushijima took every ball seriously, and his steady, firm persistence wore down every blocker and spiker he went against.

Most of the spectators didn't get excited about the matches until Aobajousai appeared to face off against Shiratorizawa in the finals. Shirabu played with the fabric of his jersey. This team was the closest that any Miyagi team could ever get to defeating Shiratorizawa, and it was the setting for one of the only challenges they would face before nationals.

Shirabu ducked when a chorus of cheers rose from the stands. It came from Shiratorizawa's cheer squad, which he didn't remember until they made themselves known, brandishing megaphones and rattling objects Shirabu couldn't name under the stress of the noise. They were all in Shiratorizawa-colored shirts and jackets, and the school banner flew below them on the rail.

"You're looking the wrong way," Tendou said. He flourished his hand a little to the side, at the squadron of cheerleaders dressed in skirts, raising their arms in preparatory cheers.

"Really, Tendou-san. Really."

"I'm being thoroughly serious. Volleyball matches are serious business, Kenjirou." Tendou swiveled to Ushijima. "Right, Wakatoshi-kun?"

Ushijima's eyes fell on him with minimal understanding.

"Look how serious he is," Tendou whispered.

Shirabu walked past them and joined Kawanishi, Akayu, and Hijiori on the sideline as Shiratorizawa's starting members took to the court. They exchanged greetings with the other team and lined up, all set for Aobajousai's serve to start the match. Everyone was warm and limber from warmups, Shirabu included, and he could already see the beginnings of sweat in everyone's necks and heads.

Akayu leaned to Hijiori. "So. What are your predictions for the match?"

Hijiori's eyebrow rose. "That we'll win?"

"I meant precise numbers."

Kawanishi and Shirabu both turned in interest.

"I'm not going to do that. I'm against gambling."

"We're not gambling," Kawanishi said.

"Making bets on the score? That's betting."

" _We're not betting._ "

Akayu flicked his hand dismissively. "We're never going to believe anything you say about psychic stuff unless you give us numbers, and the right ones."

To their surprise, Hijiori glanced down at his hand in thought, mumbling to himself and counting on his fingers.

"I think, that Seijou will lose both sets," Hijiori said.

"That's hardly a stretch to guess," Kawanishi countered.

Hijiori blinked, his eyes narrowing into a brief glare until Kawanishi closed his mouth. He resumed thinking out loud. "Shiratorizawa will win at 25 points each time. For the first set, Seijou will lose at 21 points, and in the second, at 23."

"You're making this up. You're bluffing," Akayu said.

"I don't know. It's possible. Seijou usually scores in that range against Shiratorizawa," Shirabu said. "And they also lose each set."

"Did you memorize our volleyball records?" Akayu asked with a snort.

"I saw a couple games in middle school, and I read the others in the paper."

"Shirabu is someone who really, really wanted to go here," Kawanishi added.

"Right..." Akayu trailed off. He glanced at Hijiori. "There's a good chance that you're calling these numbers on luck, but still. If you're wrong."

"I know."

"What are you four talking about?" a second year asked. Shirabu recognized him as Soekawa Jin, although he hardly knew anything about him.

"We're guessing the score."

Soekawa chuckled. "I hope you guess right."

"I'm not guessing," Hijiori said in a mutter.

Shirabu traced his foot idly on the floor at the match start. He recognized the server, Oikawa Tooru, and he remembered him fairly well. He remained unimpressed at the serve as it flew over the net to Shiratorizawa's side.

Hijiori tilted his head. "Yamagata-san's really good at receiving."

Kawanishi faced him at a slight angle, regarding him with sudden realization. "If you're psychic, then why aren't you good at guess blocking like Tendou?"

"It's not the same thing," Hijiori said without turning. "That's just reading people."

"I understand it less, but thanks."

Akayu leaned forward, almost getting in Shirabu's way. "Shirabu?"

Kawanishi waved a hand in front of him. Shirabu's eyes refocused onto him. "What?"

"You're really into the match," Kawanishi noted.

"I've never been on the sideline for a Shiratorizawa match before."

"We won't bother you, then," Akayu said. Shirabu detected a hint of playfulness in his voice, but he couldn't tell.

He returned to the court. He lost interest in Hijiori's predictions. Ushijima was serving, and the intent in his face made Shirabu's stomach drop and condense into a ball, extorting the air out of his lungs. The depth and fervency composed in him projected into such a precise point in time at the serve that Shirabu lost every semblance of a regular breathing pattern. He forgot to breathe out, and he choked.

When he recovered, he turned and found Akayu, Hijiori, and Kawanishi hovering behind him, unable to decide if they should clap him on the back or not.

Akayu withdrew and placed his hands at his waist. "Wow, Shirabu. You should've seen the look on your face."

"Was I that near death?"

"No. Before you choked." Akayu's smile turned sly. "You went deaf to us. You were so in awe. Love the match that much?"

Shirabu's mouth pressed together, fitting into a tight line. "Deaf?"

"You didn't hear us talking?" Hijiori asked.

"No."

"That's not surprising. The crowds and drums drown stuff out sometimes," Kawanishi said with a wave at the drummers.

"Remember to breathe," Akayu said with a snicker.

Shirabu relocated his attention to the court, his eyes narrowing. Their tones corroborated into patronization now.

"He really loves this team. I wish I could be that devoted," Hijiori murmured to Akayu and Kawanishi.

Shirabu drew his hand to his neck. He rubbed at his tension, thinking to himself and watching at the same time. Ushijima commanded his attention in the match, but his loyalty to the entirety of Shiratorizawa was undeniable. If he didn't care about the team, he wouldn't have joined to begin with.

After the first timeout, Ushijima made his way to the bench after a brief team meeting with Washijou. Shirabu scurried to retrieve his sports bottle and a towel, and he appeared at his side when he sat down.

"How are you feeling, Ushijima-san?" Shirabu asked.

"Thirsty," he answered in a rasp. He accepted his bottle with a grateful nod and uncapped it and drank right away, gulping down water in deep drinks.

Shirabu watched his throat as he swallowed, his lips wrapped on the bottle, new sweat in a sheen on his neck. Shirabu hesitated with the towel, but he settled with waiting for him to finish.

Ushijima pulled away with a gasp, and he wiped his mouth with his arm. He placed his bottle on the floor near his feet. "Thanks, Shirabu," he said, his chest still heaving in uneven, fatigued breaths.

Hijiori skipped up to them, with Akayu and Kawanishi in tow. "Did you notice the score, Shirabu?" Hijiori asked, triumph laced in his voice. He fell muted and subdued as he approached Ushijima, but he still managed to maintain his voice as he addressed Shirabu.

"I guess it was 21," Shirabu said without looking at him. He handed Ushijima the towel.

"Stop saying _guess_."

"Guess block," Kawanishi said.

Ushijima appraised them blankly. His hands paused in toweling his neck.

"It's a long story," Shirabu said.

"No it's not. Hijiori's just trying to...predict," Akayu said carefully, "the scores."

"I see. And what is going to be the score for the next set?"

Shirabu stepped in front of Ushijima to shield him from them. "Don't tell him. It's just a game. The numbers could mess with everyone's heads."

"I hadn't thought of that..." Hijiori trailed off.

"So just knowing the future changes the future?" Kawanishi asked.

"This is getting too existential. Stop talking about it." Shirabu's eyes narrowed steadily at them.

Kawanishi whispered to Hijiori, "Don't ever tell this to Tendou. If you do, he won't stop talking about it for days. He loves this kind of thing."

Shirabu turned back to Ushijima. "Are you ready for the next set?"

Ushijima redirected his gaze from Hijiori and Akayu to Shirabu. "I'm looking forward to it."

"They're going to lose," Shirabu affirmed with an uncontainable grin. Ushijima reciprocated with a light edge in his eyes, wrinkling his skin the way a smile would.

Ushijima stood and deposited his dirty towel in the supply cart. Tendou found him, and they reclaimed the court again with the rest of the team for the second set.

"23, 23," Hijiori said to himself. He walked past Washijou, and Washijou glanced at him with a baffled look.

"Can we make bets on if he'll be right or not?" Akayu asked. "He's not the one betting."

"That would get confusing," Kawanishi said.

"No," Shirabu said.

Akayu crossed his arms and stared at the court. Shirabu followed suit. He watched the volleyball fly between the two sides, pivoting and rocking back and forth across setters, liberos, and spikers. The spiker he recognized as Iwaizumi Hajime had considerable strength in his spike, but Shirabu still knew, without a doubt, that Ushijima was much stronger. Tendou could still block Iwaizumi well, and that was enough of a message to Shirabu.

"So what do you like about Shiratorizawa so much, huh?" Akayu asked.

Shirabu let out his breath. "Strength. In every way."

"That's it?"

Shirabu deflated. "No. It's. It's better in everything. Even the parking lot is better than other schools."

"Did you measure it out?"

" _No_. I was making a point. It's prestigious, better equipped, it's bigger, there's a dorm building, and it even looks much nicer."

Akayu shielded his mouth over his hand as he whispered to Kawanishi, "You can't marry a school, right?"

Shirabu let out a large sigh. "I'm not marrying a _school_ ," he said, loudly.

Washijou glanced towards them with a twitching eyebrow. "You four have been acting suspiciously this whole time."

"Sorry," Shirabu said, shrinking back in sheepishness.

Washijou quickly returned to the game, and Akayu, Hijiori, and Kawanishi snorted under their hands, desperate to keep quiet.

"He heard you."

"That was _so_ bad."

"I'm glad I'm not you."

Shirabu grasped the bottom of his jersey in his hands. "Quiet," he hissed. "Do you want him to yell at us?"

"You're right. It's not worth it," Kawanishi said.

Shirabu moved away from them to watch the game. At timeout, Washijou sent them another incredulous look, but he said nothing.

Match point came and rolled by. Seijou retreated into themselves in defeat, but Shirabu tore away to take in Shiratorizawa, the reigning team. Tendou ran with his arms up in the air, his mouth open in a yell.

"Victoryyyyy!" Tendou hopped on his feet and raised his head, his hands on his waist. His wordless cawing made Kawanishi cringe as the team gathered for a final farewell with Aobajousai.

"Seijou probably hates us by now. They keep losing to us," Kawanishi said.

"So?" Shirabu asked. "They're the weaker school. It's natural that they'd lose."

Hijiori greeted the players with a small grin of his own, pleased with "predicting" the correct numbers.

Shirabu took to Ushijima's side. "Are you tired?"

Ushijima raised his elbow in the air, lifting his other hand to his elbow to stretch. Shirabu could see the arm muscle twitch and flex with the effort.

"It wasn't that tiring of a match."

"You're indefatigable," Shirabu said in admiration, quiet enough so Ushijima wouldn't hear. He breathed in deeply, and he sighed, his voice light in its study of Ushijima.

 

* * *

 

Ushijima dipped his head in acknowledgment as he bowed, his eyes briefly closed. Rounds of applause met the announcement of his captaincy.

“Unless he fails spectacularly, then this isn’t going to change. The actual composition of the team, on the other hand, is definitely going to change. Even if you’re a second year starting player, you’re going to have to earn your place again. Don’t expect any guarantees.” Washijou scanned over the assembly of players in front of him, and he paused at Shirabu. “And don’t misbehave."

Shirabu’s gaze simmered back at Akayu. “That was your fault,” he said once Washijou dismissed them.

“I didn’t do anything?"

“Earlier, at the game.” Shirabu shrugged it off and approached Ushijima, joining the crowd of well-wishers congratulating him as the new captain.

Ushijima stood among the crowd with an unobtrusive grace, his head turning to glance around and take in everyone waving at him, shaking his hand, and clapping his shoulder in congratulatory gestures. Tendou and Semi tried to stay by his side, but the tide of people carried them away to the edge of the crowd, and they gave up.

Shirabu was tempted to elbow his way in. He really was. He sized up the crowd and thought about it, but at every opportunity, he grimaced and remained still. He waited until the numbers thinned out.

He lurked behind and slipped in at a dead lull. Everyone else was slowly gathering their belongings to leave, tired after the long day of matches.

The fatigue in Ushijima's face shadowed his eyes, extending to the gentle shape of his lips, slightly pulled in a derivative of a smile. "Shirabu?"

"Congratulations," Shirabu murmured. He scanned Ushijima from head to toe. "You look exhausted."

"I am." Ushijima blinked tiredly, and he made a small noise. He scratched at his chest with a lazy hand and continued up to the bottom of his neck.

"You should get sleep, then. You earned it." Shirabu stretched his arms to the ceiling, and he groaned. "I'm heading to my room."

"I'll accompany you." Ushijima hefted his sports bag to his arm, balancing its strap on his shoulder, and he followed Shirabu out. They were the last ones to leave the gym building, and Ushijima paused to lock the doors. Everything else was already accounted for after the team cleaned. The matches took place at Sendai, and barely anything happened at the gym, so their gym was already in an appreciable state.

"Are you worried about being captain now?" Shirabu asked.

"No. Why would I be?"

"It's a lot of responsibility."

"Being a part of the team already entails that."

Shirabu scratched the back of his head. "You're not nervous?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"No," Shirabu said right away. He dragged out a long sigh. "It sounds like a tiring amount of work."

"I'm prepared for it."

Shirabu imagined Ushijima surrounded by unruly, untamable first years when the new school year starts, unable to handle them. He could also imagine Ushijima giving orders smoothly to the team, precise and intense, and the deepened vision of that curled in his stomach.

"I think you are, too..."

"You're not," Ushijima said. "You're not yet ready to be the starting setter."

Shirabu let his eyes fall closed, not even refusing or arguing with him. He snorted. "If you thought I could set in an official match today, then no one would want you to be captain."

Ushijima opened his mouth to reply, but he found Shirabu undisturbed by the admission. He reconsidered and fell quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Azaleas mean patience and modesty in hanakotoba.
> 
> 2\. Kawanishi's canonical current concern has to do with allergies.
> 
> 2\. In canon, Shirabu actually does switch between calling Ushijima Ushijima-san, Ushijima, and Ushijima-senpai. I know that means utterly nothing but I still wanted to do something with that.


	4. Chapter 4

 "Toss to me."

Shirabu's head whipped around, his hands loosening around the volleyball he was about to toss to Kawanishi. It fell to the ground unnoticed. "What?"

Ushijima appeared unobtrusively from the side, but he still gave Shirabu a demanding look. "You've practiced with this team for months now. Tendou told me you've tossed to him, too."

He straightened and looked at Ushijima. "You want me to toss to you…?"

"Once," Ushijima said with a nod.

Shirabu crouched down and picked up the volleyball from the floor. He glanced at Kawanishi and Akayu and turned to face Ushijima. There were still a few minutes left to practice on their own, and Shirabu and Kawanishi already spent some of that time casually sending the ball back and forth with Akayu. Ushijima's sudden appearance dissolved the carefree atmosphere between them.

"Go ahead. Toss," Kawanishi said.

"Trying to put pressure on me isn't going to work, Kawanishi."

Kawanishi paused. "I'm being encouraging."

Akayu waved at Shirabu. “You can do it, Shirabu!"

Shirabu dribbled the ball on the floor for good measure. He had to remind himself to adjust the toss, and the pressure from that alone made him doubt himself. Ushijima was the first left-handed spiker he ever had to toss to; he had never tried before. It _should_ be simple enough to just change the timing for him, but Shirabu could already anticipate that he wasn't going to get it right away.

Ushijima moved up to the net for Shirabu to toss, staring at him expectantly and steadily. Shirabu was still reeling from the request. It was sudden and unexpected, and it felt like a whim -- almost like something _Tendou_ would suggest. Ushijima had a point, though. Months had passed, inter high had flown by, and players were starting to be switched around. It wouldn't be a surprise to be asked to play more with the second and third years.

Shirabu agreed with a nod. He lifted his arms with a walking start, tossing the ball into the air and guiding it into a quick arched path into Ushijima's hand. Ushijima's arms burned through the never-failing form, and his spike slammed it down to the floor easily.

Shirabu's eyes didn't leave him. His breath was stranded in his throat. He took a tentative step toward Ushijima, his mouth tight. He kept himself from talking before Ushijima did.

Ushijima frowned, and Shirabu realized he was _disappointed_. He gave the net a narrow look before facing Shirabu. "You tossed too quickly."

Shirabu bit down his immediate thought, that he was too nervous, and didn't know how to toss for a left handed spiker.

He stiffened to a greater height, and his stare hardened. "How do you like your tosses, then?"

"Slower, more direct. It didn't connect that time."

Shirabu knew he was trying to explain, but most of that sounded too abstract without more detail. Shirabu couldn't extract any usefulness from that.

"What do you mean, 'more direct'?"

Ushijima stared back at him. "A cleaner set, higher above the net." Ushijima rose and caught Tendou's eye with an outstretched hand. "Tendou, can you come over here?"

Tendou straightened and leaned over to look from the side of the gym, and he placed his water bottle down. He jogged up to them, glancing between them and settling on Ushijima. "You called?"

"Block. I'll spike."

Shirabu's mouth fell as he watched Tendou skip to a place next to the net. Tendou waved at Kawanishi, Akayu, and Shirabu, greeting them for the first time that day.

"Something special today?" Tendou asked.

"No," Ushijima answered. "I need you to block. I want to show Shirabu something."

Shirabu spun the ball in his hands and waited for them both to signal that they were ready. Tendou gave a thumbs up. Ushijima nodded.

Shirabu sucked in a breath and stepped forward, tossing up and to the side. He expected Ushijima to reach for it, but he forgot that Tendou was just as fast. Ushijima jumped and followed the ball, coming up to the net at the same time as Tendou. Even with his powerful spike, he couldn't dodge a guess block. Ushijima's spike _was_ strong enough to push Tendou's hands back, and the ball successfully fell onto the other side.

"What was that supposed to prove?" Shirabu asked.

Tendou stood up and leaned over, his hands clapping Ushijima on the shoulder. Ushijima stiffened at the rough contact.

"That Wakatoshi's the best! Only a miracle can shove away a block like that."

"It's not a miracle if he keeps doing it," Kawanishi mumbled.

Ushijima's eyes remained on Tendou's hand, burning it until it fell. "That was better, Shirabu."

"Why?"

"It wasn't as thoughtless."

"...That doesn't tell me anything." Shirabu picked up the volleyball and shoved it into Ushijima's chest, holding it there until Ushijima's hands moved to lift it away. "Anything else?" Shirabu asked.

"It was better than Semi's first toss to me."

Shirabu rose with a surprised breath. It descended in him, and he recollected himself. "I need something more specific about my toss."

"It was steadier."

Semi walked up to Ushijima's side, his head turning up as he stopped. "I heard my name."

"Wakatoshi said Kenjirou’s better than you."

"I can _tell_ that you're lying," Semi said to Tendou.

“What Tendou said was close to the truth," Ushijima said. "I--"

"Close enough!" Tendou tightened his mouth into a taunting grin at Semi. "You can tell I'm lying?"

Semi closed his eyes for a second to ignore Tendou, and he stepped to angle away. "Are you practicing tosses to Wakatoshi, Shirabu?"

"Yes," Shirabu answered, grateful for the serious attention. “But he won't tell me exactly what he wants."

"Wakatoshi doesn't like reckless tosses," Semi said.

"They have to be calm and controlled, like him." Tendou raised his arms slowly and moved his hands through a sloppy imitation of a toss.

"Don't try to sound deep, Tendou," Kawanishi said.

Tendou dipped his chin down. "They have to be calm and controlled, like him," he repeated in a deeper voice.

"I'm still talking with Semi," Shirabu interrupted.

Semi pushed Tendou away by the forehead. "Wakatoshi, do you want to say something?"

"I don't have anything to add."

"Well, you _should_ ," Shirabu grumbled.

"Practice is going to start soon. We're done here," Semi said. He rolled his shoulder experimentally and started walking away, and Kawanishi and Akayu followed.

Shirabu passed Ushijima and chose a place on the court to stretch. He twisted his head with his arm as he stretched it, glancing at Ushijima and watching him stretch on his own. Ushijima folded his leg behind himself to his thigh, and he switched to warm up his other leg, but when he bent down to reach for his feet, Shirabu had to look away. His neck went rigid, refusing to turn and see, and the bottom of his neck flared uncomfortably hot.

He let out a huff and swiveled his head away completely, biting the thought down and clearing it to focus. The practices just after inter high were critical for determining the new starting members, and Shirabu didn't want to slack off.

Shirabu ended up wondering in the quick breaks in between drills. As ridiculous as Tendou was, there was a point buried under his useless rambling. Ushijima wanted tosses that fit him, tosses that were _like_ him, and Shirabu felt like he barely knew him. It didn't take much for a toss to connect to a spike if a setter was decent and could spike well enough, but Ushijima was discerning, and he wanted more, better. He wouldn’t accept the minimum. And he deserved more than that.

Shirabu drifted to his side after changing from practice, and he glanced at the gym walls instead of at him directly. Shirabu was still parsing the idea of setting differently, and he couldn't think of what else to ask to identify what would make his sets better. He half-listened to Tendou talk to Ushijima, his fingers idly together and his eyes fixed blankly ahead.

Tendou leaned forward while walking. "You look chatty. Wanna tell us something funny?” he asked Shirabu.

"You're supposed to say _hear_ something funny," Shirabu said without looking at him.

"I'm asking you to tell me a joke."

"I don't have any."

“Hn. Disappointing." Tendou straightened. "What about you, Wakatoshi?"

“I’m bad with jokes, Tendou."

Tendou huffed and grumbled. "You're both boring. Talk to each other, then." Tendou waved both hands at them and hurried to step out from being in between them.

Shirabu glared at him and decided to just return to Ushijima. Tendou had piqued his attention, and he was looking at Shirabu now, his eyes clear and curious.

"I don't have anything to say," Shirabu said. He still stayed by Ushijima's side, even as they left the locker room and stepped into the parking lot.

Shirabu strangled the strap of his sports bag. The nights were getting hotter, too hot for him to carry a jacket with him to bunch his hands in the pockets. Tonight the breeze was only balmy and mildly warm, but during the day, Shirabu could barely stand it.

"Ushijima, are you doing anything tonight?" Shirabu asked. He felt discomfort creep in, but he stared right at Ushijima to force it away.

"No. Why?"

"I…" Shirabu dug his foot and kicked the floor lightly, unable to say why he was trying to press for something. He wanted to learn more about Ushijima to be able to set for him. Whatever Ushijima wanted, it was too abstract to articulate and understand in a day.

"It's a Friday night," Shirabu ended up murmuring, but he was still loud enough to be heard. "Don't you have something you look forward to on the weekend? Outside of volleyball."

"Tendou and I go shopping sometimes."

"That doesn't sound enjoyable with him…"

"In return, I make him garden."

"Better," Shirabu said around a veiled snicker. "But I meant… Don't you go to the movies or have ice cream with some of the team? Tendou and Kawanishi do."

"Occasionally."

Shirabu rolled his lips together through a frown. "Well… Want to see a movie with me tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, after practice?"

Ushijima brought his hand to his mouth in thought, his eyes on the floor. Shirabu inched closer to will a response from him, and as he moved, he heard light footfalls.

"Heading home?" Kawanishi asked.

Shirabu glanced ahead and realized they were walking slowly. The dorms weren't far away, but they were tired, and Shirabu wanted to shower and climb into bed for the night. He was planning on actually going home tomorrow to his family instead of the "home" at the dorms, but if he went to the movies, then it'd be pushed back later in the day.

"It's late. There's nowhere else to go," Shirabu pointed out.

"Right. I'm…really tired, Shirabu."

"Keep walking. You’ll stay awake."

Kawanishi glanced behind him. "I don't want to accidentally agree to something with Tendou when I'm this tired."

"That's for the best." Shirabu turned to Ushijima. He was still walking with them, but after they stepped inside the building, Ushijima stopped.

"I live on the first floor." He tried to walk down the hall on his own, but Shirabu cleared his throat after a few steps.

"You didn't say yes or no when I asked about tomorrow."

Ushijima shifted to face him, and even when they were eye to eye, Shirabu didn't move. He continued looking at him.

"I'll go," Ushijima said.

Shirabu's eyes took him in more openly than before, his fatigue gone and alertness spiking. He jerked back and nodded. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow. Night, Ushijima-senpai," Shirabu said in a clipped rush, adding the honorific after a beat of delayed thought.

Ushijima's mouth remained unamused, but he didn't comment on it. He dipped his head in return. "Good night, Shirabu."

Shirabu walked away, dazedly glancing around at the walls instead of at someone, and when he came up to Kawanishi, he saw him with a raised eyebrow and a slight frown. Kawanishi stepped aside to let him pass.

"What happened?" Kawanishi asked.

"I asked him if he wanted to see a movie tomorrow," Shirabu said.

"...And he said yes?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Why didn't you just ask me or Semi?"

Shirabu rumbled quietly in his throat. "I'm trying to learn how to toss to him."

"You're really doing your research," Kawanishi said after a heavy moment. Not heavy with importance or awkwardness, but deliberation, a knowing pause.

Shirabu grumbled in his head. Kawanishi didn't have to smile, yell, or ask to convey what he wanted. The silence and neutrality was enough, and the weight of that ability itself was more glaring than just saying something. It was growing more into an ordinary thorn every day.

"You're right, you're tired," Shirabu said. "You should go to bed soon. Really soon."

"Right…" Kawanishi came to a stop in front of his door, and Shirabu paused to acknowledge him. "Good night. See you tomorrow, Shirabu."

"Night."

Shirabu trudged down the hall and opened the door to his room, dropping his belongings on the floor and stepping out of his room again to head to the bathroom for a shower. By the time Shirabu finished and made it to his bed, he was _exhausted_ , and he was incredibly grateful for the soft pressure of the mattress under him and the light sheet he pulled over himself. It was too warm for a blanket, but that was still in the closet for the cold snaps ahead in the winter.

Shirabu drifted to sleep quickly. Sometimes he checked his phone several times over the night, a habit that kept him up from the light but gave him the time constantly throughout the night. This was how Shirabu knew he fell asleep right away -- he didn't remember checking the time once.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu woke up to the vibration of his phone's alarm in the morning. He had it tucked under his pillow to wake him easily, and it startled him awake. He drowsily rubbed his hand over his forehead, slid his feet into his slippers, and shuffled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash his face to fully wake up.

After breakfast, Shirabu headed down to the gym for morning practice. He was early enough to stretch a little and make a few tosses to Kawanishi and Hijiori, but when Ushijima and Tendou entered, he gave a quick dismissal to Kawanishi and stepped up to Ushijima and Tendou.

"Can I toss to you again?" Shirabu asked. He rose on his feet with hopeful eyes.

"No."

"I wasn't asking you," Shirabu said to Tendou. He turned to face Ushijima completely. "I want to try again."

Ushijima spent a few moments thinking, his eyes distantly on Shirabu. He nodded. "Until practice starts."

"Thanks." Shirabu walked to the net and bounced the ball a few times to wait for Ushijima to get ready. Neither of them asked Tendou to join, but he did anyway, dragging Kawanishi with him to the other side of the court.

"Blocking is more fun with two," Tendou said.

"Debatable."

"You need the practice."

"This barely looks like practice," Kawanishi countered.

Shirabu whispered to Ushijima, “Should we start without them?"

"Just toss. If they're not paying attention, they'll learn."

Shirabu's chest shook with a bubble of laughter. "Alright. Don't hit them, though."

Shirabu bounced the volleyball one more time. Ushijima automatically moved to the appropriate side of Shirabu to spike, and Shirabu had to mentally prepare himself for tossing and aiming for a different timing. He refused to visibly hesitate, and he stepped forward to clear his reluctance. He tossed to Ushijima a little away from the net, still high enough to be spiked, but a step of distance away to try to avoid the spikers.

Tendou's hands made it in front of the spike, spread out in a kill block focused on Ushijima. The ball bounced back and thudded on the floor in front of the net on Ushijima's side. Shirabu's hands stiffened in the air, hovering by his stomach as Ushijima stilled.

Tendou shook his hands to brush off the sting. "You're getting stronger, Wakatoshi-kun! I could barely block it that time."

Shirabu crouched forward for the ball, and he noticed Ushijima's slightly irritated expression, his nose and mouth twisted just a little.

Tendou leaned over the net, his head down to address Shirabu. "He doesn't like being blocked," Tendou whispered. "He's rarely blocked, anyway. Only I can do it on the team."

"Why did you ask Kawanishi to help, then?"

"He needs the practice."

"Practice hasn't started yet," Kawanishi said.

Tendou nudged him away. "You need to practice. Playing on the court isn't fun if you don't know how to block."

"I know how to block."

Shirabu stood up and looked to the side. Ushijima was moving back into place for another spike.

Shirabu glanced at the net. "Kawanishi, get him back to blocking. I'm tossing again."

"You don't have to ask him. Ask me directly," Tendou said.

"I'm tossing," Shirabu repeated definitively. His fingers pressed on the ball.

Kawanishi and Tendou lifted their arms, eyeing each other as they edged their hands up.

Shirabu concentrated to keep from rolling his eyes. He drew his attention to Ushijima and tightened his hands.

The next toss came into Kawanishi's blocking range. Shirabu didn't want to give Tendou a chance at blocking after he successfully blocked and shut down the last spike, so he intentionally set for Ushijima to spike against Kawanishi.

The ball knocked Kawanishi's hands back much more than it did with Tendou's block. Kawanishi grimaced and struggled as it hit his hands, but he still fumbled back.

He swiveled his head to Shirabu as he caught himself. "That was on purpose."

"No, I tossed by accident. I meant to set a dump over the net," Shirabu said dryly.

The toss made Tendou ecstatic. He grinned and tilted his head proudly as if he spiked the ball himself, displaying his grin more to Kawanishi when Kawanishi looked at him. Shirabu guessed that it was because he had sold Kawanishi out to help Ushijima, but he couldn't be sure.

"Let's try again," Shirabu said. Kawanishi didn't move. He gestured at the net after a minute. "Don't you want to block again?"

"I don't know," Kawanishi admitted.

"Don't block, then."

"Block," Tendou said. "One more time."

"I don't know."

"Giving up?" Tendou asked.

"I'm _not_ giving up." Kawanishi resumed his blocking position and raised his arms. "I'm staying."

"I think he tricked you," Shirabu mumbled, but Kawanishi didn't respond. Shirabu moved on and returned to tossing. He lifted his hands and set to Ushijima.

Shirabu didn't toss in front of Kawanishi again, but he still tossed near him, to the side of him so Tendou couldn't switch around easily and replace him. Ushijima's spike wasn't blocked this time. It missed Kawanishi's hands and rushed by his side.

"You're still targeting me," Kawanishi said.

"Avoiding me? You can't run forever," Tendou taunted. He was trying to stay cool, but his mouth twitched, too pleased to hide a trace of a smile.

"I appreciate trying to dodge spikers, but neither of us are learning from that," Ushijima said.

Shirabu narrowed his eyes at all three of them. "Fine. Be prepared, Ushijima-senpai."

Ushijima didn't visibly react to that. He stepped back to the net to spike, and everyone looked at Shirabu expectantly, knees and arms bent in anticipation.

Shirabu tossed to what he thought was the best place regardless of spikers. Tendou slid in to block. Ushijima followed the timing and spiked, his arms moving with the same power as before. Shirabu noticed his reluctance to spike into a confident block right in front of him, but it didn't affect his strength. He only hesitated, which affected his speed a little.

Ushijima's spike powered through Tendou's block. Tendou shook off the sting in his hands again, but otherwise he was happy with it. He jostled Ushijima's arm and guided him into a high five. Ushijima's hands landed on Tendou's with a light slap from letting his hands be controlled by him.

"That's good, Wakatoshi! Don't kill anyone's hands when you do it." Tendou stretched his arms out. "Another toss?" he asked, turning to Shirabu to prompt an answer.

"I think we have enough time. Hurry up." His eyes drifted to Ushijima as Tendou and Kawanishi prepared themselves again, alert for more signs of hesitation. "I know you don't like being blocked so openly," Shirabu said.

"No, I don't."

Shirabu spent a moment looking at him before moving. "You handle Tendou-san well, at least."

"He's admirable."

Shirabu stepped away and noticed Tendou and Kawanishi standing still with readiness. He made a small noise to get Ushijima's attention, and when Ushijima started moving, he followed into a toss.

Even with a clear blocking path, Tendou was pushed back. He wasn't knocked back enough to step and stumble the way Kawanishi did, but his arms couldn't hold the block. The ball touched the floor, and Tendou's mouth soured into a frown until he patted Ushijima's arm.

"Blocking you is really hard, Wakatoshi." Tendou's mouth pressed to the side. "And you should work harder, Taichi."

“You can call me Kawanishi,” he corrected.

"Taichi."

"Practice is starting," Kawanishi said. He began walking away, and Shirabu hurried to stay with him to be prepared when partner drills were called.

Shirabu folded his arm around his other arm and stretched more. "Did it hurt when you tried to block Ushijima?"

"A little. I wasn't prepared." Kawanishi narrowed his eyes at Shirabu. "Don't do that again."

Shirabu uncrossed his arms, and he scratched the back of his head. "I tried too hard to keep him from being blocked…"

"Blame it on tossing to a left-handed spiker. I would."

"…Thanks, Kawanishi."

Kawanishi nodded and linked his hands together to stretch his fingers. Shirabu rolled his wrists, casually testing out tossing movements.

Shirabu glanced around the gym. Semi was standing with Tendou, far enough away that Shirabu couldn't hear, but close enough for him to see their mouths moving. Semi was struggling between ignoring him and talking to him while frowning.

After a couple seconds of watching and deciding to join them, Shirabu turned to Kawanishi and gestured toward Tendou and Semi. He stiffened a little as he realized this would be easier if he could just grab Kawanishi’s arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's switch for the day."

"Switch what?" Kawanishi asked.

"Partners. I want to talk with Semi-san about tossing."

With a reluctant pause, Kawanishi asked, "You want me to spend time with Tendou today?"

"I don't know how else to have time with Semi-san."

"Ask him to the movies after practice."

"That's not funny," Shirabu said.

Semi and Tendou stopped talking to face them questioningly as they approached. Semi turned with mild relief, and Tendou leaned a little forward, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

"What is it?" Semi asked.

"Can I be with you today? I want to ask you something about tossing." Shirabu motioned at Kawanishi. "Tendou can have him instead."

"Yes," Semi said immediately. "I'll finish stretching with you." He pushed Tendou by the shoulder and stepped away to join Shirabu. "What do you need help with?"

They wandered a little bit away from Tendou and Kawanishi, but Shirabu could still hear Tendou animatedly talk with him. With their backs turned, Shirabu couldn't see, but he guessed that Kawanishi was staring ahead or blankly regarding Tendou.

Shirabu lifted his head to Semi. "The first time you set to Ushijima… Was that your first time setting to a left-handed spiker?"

Semi twisted his arm in a windmill. "Yeah. It was a disaster the first time. It was in the middle of practice. The ball missed Wakatoshi's hands completely. It didn't hit him in the arms or face, but it kept going in the air and hit the sideline."

Shirabu tilted his foot up and reached for his foot to stretch it.

"I didn't miss his hand, but it was still sloppy," Shirabu confessed.

"You probably impressed Wakatoshi a little, at least." Semi raised his arm above his head, and he reached for his elbow, groaning with the effort.

“No. He was disappointed."

"Maybe it wasn't at you," Semi said.

"I don't think so."

Semi's eyes shifted and narrowed. "Well, you're still a good setter. Don't you know that you're better than I was when I was a first year?"

"I am?"

"It's annoying, though, so don't bring it up again."

"You brought it up," Shirabu said.

Semi snorted and pulled away, and he bent to stretch his legs by reaching for his feet. "Did you have something else to ask? More important?"

"I want to learn how to toss to Ushijima. Without messing up. What did you do?"

Semi stood up. "I kept tossing to him. It took a long time."

Shirabu wasn't satisfied with that, it was something he already knew, but he pressed on. "Didn't you have any problems with him?"

"What kind of problems?"

"Any. Do you remember anything?" Shirabu asked.

"No. It was a long time ago."

Shirabu rubbed at his arms in idle frustration. Semi was barely helping, even though he answered truthfully.

The two of them jogged at the start of warmups. Shirabu jogged around the gym at a mild pace to not burn out from already being warm and ready for practice. Throughout spiking and receive practice there wasn't that much time to talk with Semi, but Shirabu found time during a lull in a short break. He considered asking him something during a drill of sit-ups, but that always involved one of them being unable to really talk.

"Did you have trouble with choosing where to toss for him?"

"You're still not done…" Semi sighed. "Sometimes."

Shirabu spent a few minutes trying to pull answers from Semi, but Semi gave vague advice and continued being unhelpful. The only good thing Shirabu wrangled from him was an offer to let Shirabu watch him toss to Ushijima after practice.

"Wakatoshi, do you have a minute to spike?" Semi asked, Shirabu following behind him.

"Yes. Why?"

"Shirabu wants to see me toss to you." Semi stepped forward and picked up a volleyball. "Let's just do one. The gym's closing soon."

"Alright." Ushijima approached the net again, and he waited for Semi to retrieve a ball.

Semi bounced the ball, and his eyes flitted to make sure Shirabu was watching. He lifted his arms up to toss, and Ushijima leapt up with effortless timing, his spike streaking down in a blur and slamming the floor. Shirabu almost missed the toss itself to watch Ushijima, but he saw it -- the practiced twist in Semi's wrists, the angle, the step for the toss. It was obvious that Semi had experience with being Ushijima's setter.

Semi turned to Shirabu. "Did you catch that?"

"I saw." Shirabu rubbed at his neck. "I think it helped a little. Thanks."

"Hurry up and help clean, then." Semi headed to the supply cart and dropped the volleyball in.

Shirabu flitted to help mop beside Kawanishi and pack up the gym. Kawanishi didn't say anything or look at him, but in Kawanishi fashion, he silently gave Shirabu a feeling of teasing judgment.

Shirabu handed the mop to Kawanishi when he finished. "You can take it back to the closet."

"Why me?"

"So I don't have to listen to what you'll say now that practice is completely over."

"I haven't said anything yet."

Shirabu insistently pressed the mop handle into Kawanishi's hand. "You will."

He walked away before Kawanishi could add something. He hurried to the gym door and waited outside until Ushijima appeared.

"Can you wait outside the dorms? I have to go change and shower," Shirabu said. He could've showered and changed at the gym building, but he wanted to drop off his sports bag.

"I'll do the same. I'll walk with you." Ushijima took the lead, and Shirabu skipped to catch up.

They walked in silence, but it was a short walk. Shirabu bumped his hands together and silently forced himself to remember to grab his phone and wallet, and to drop everything else off.

Shirabu ran up the stairs and dumped his sports bag in his room before he hurried to the bathroom for a quick shower. By the time he was downstairs, Ushijima was already outside the entrance, leaning on the wall and staring down in admiration at the grass, at a small assemblage of zinnias.

"Sorry I took long." Shirabu glanced over Ushijima, his eyes on Ushijima's shorts. "How long were you waiting?"

"Around a minute." He stood up from the wall. "Are you ready to leave?"

Shirabu nodded and stepped away, turning to keep from looking at him for too long. "Let's go."

Ushijima remained quiet again, and Shirabu guessed that he wasn't going to say much until he was prompted by Shirabu. His eyes wandered over the sidewalk in thought, trying to think of what to say. He wanted to figure out Ushijima's likes and dislikes to then generalize to volleyball, but his eyes kept straying to Ushijima's legs and arms and up to his face, and his thoughts specifically wandered back to volleyball and being on the court.

"Were you and Tendou going to do anything today?" Shirabu asked.

"No. He suggested going to eat, but he changed his mind and asked Kawanishi and Semi instead."

Shirabu drew his hands over his face, feeling his skin redden in the growing summer heat. The sun was high in the afternoon sky, but a breeze dulled the edge of the heat.

"I don't feel sorry for Kawanishi." Shirabu dropped his hands to his arms. "What movie do you want to see?"

"You can choose."

"You don't have a favorite genre?"

"No."

"I don't know… Do you really not mind?"

"I don't. Go ahead."

Shirabu narrowed his eyes at the floor. He wanted Ushijima to pick. He had no idea if Ushijima would like what he chose, if he secretly liked romantic comedies or if he was only interested in documentaries.

"Without Tendou and Semi, what do you do in your free time? Do you only play volleyball?"

"I spend time in the library or the garden."

"That's not what I meant." Shirabu sighed and dropped his hand to his side, his other hand resting over his arm. He thought Ushijima meant Shiratorizawa's horticulture garden, but he couldn't be sure.

"Tendou told me you spent time with Semi today," Ushijima said.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I wanted setting help from Semi-san." Shirabu's eyes returned to looking ahead. "He didn't really help."

"I'm sure he did his best."

"He isn't as calm a person as I thought," Shirabu said.

Ushijima's mouth pressed to the side, unable to think of how to respond to that. His indecisive face reminded Shirabu of his reaction to being called senpai.

Shirabu tilted his head up a little for a better view. "But you definitely are, Ushijima-senpai."

Ushijima averted his eyes. "Thank you."

Shirabu almost looked away, but he caught a faint red burn lightly dusted across Ushijima's face. Shirabu didn't notice it before, and he couldn't tell if it was lingering from the sun.

He made a small thoughtful noise in his throat, thinking quietly to himself instead of doing it to get Ushijima's attention. "You're welcome."

They arrived at the theater after a few more minutes of walking, and they paused as Shirabu stood to decide what to see. Shirabu pressed his hand to the side of his head, and he forced himself to ignore Ushijima's eyes on him to check his progress.

He rocked on his feet in thought, his weight shifting as his hips locked and one of his hands rested at his hip, the other hand at his chin. If there had been a fantasy movie, then Shirabu would’ve descended on that right away, but he didn’t recognize any. There were only comedies, action movies, a horror film, and a few children’s movies. None of them had anything remotely close to fantasy.

Shirabu ended up picking an action movie. He shuffled to buy his ticket, and he stepped to the side to wait for Ushijima. They walked in to find a seat, Shirabu leading and walking slowly in the dark room to avoid tripping or stepping on anything. He paused at one row of sets, and he stopped for so long that Ushijima had to speak up.

“Shirabu? What’s wrong?"

Shirabu hurried to step away. "I'm fine," he murmured. He headed down a row and sat down quickly, and Ushijima did the same next to him.

Ushijima crowded the armrest, not intentionally but from moving and shifting closer to the side, closer to Shirabu. Shirabu fell still. He straightened and considered telling him to move away. He left his hands in his lap instead, and he slipped his phone out and checked the time to momentarily busy himself. He was planning on going home to his family after the movie, and he had been vague with the answer he gave his parents when they asked for a time.

"Is volleyball, gardening, and homework really all you do?" Shirabu asked. He turned to look at Ushijima, falling into the shadows casting across his face from the dimming light.

"I think so," Ushijima said.

"Don't you ever get _bored_?"

"No. Do you?"

"No," Shirabu said in a mumble. He slid down in his chair a little, huffing to himself.

"I can tell that you're working hard to learn to toss for me, Shirabu.” Ushijima’s head tilted down, his chin almost coming to his chest as he lowered his gaze to regard Shirabu.

Shirabu grumbled under his breath. The _for me_ rung in his head longer than the rest of his words. "I know, but trying's not enough," he said.

"You're too impatient."

Shirabu whirred in his throat, uninterested in responding to that.

"I believe you're capable, though. You told me you'd come to Shiratorizawa, and you did, after all." Ushijima readjusted himself in his seat as the lights fully dimmed for the movie.

Shirabu sunk in his seat more and swam in Ushijima's words echoing in his head. He tried to focus on watching the opening, but his eyes wandered back to Ushijima.

Ushijima was watching the screen intently now, his face darkened and only visible from the movie's light. It made Shirabu's stomach tighten with the darkness closing in around him, and he gathered his hands and clasped them stiffly, trying to keep from glancing at Ushijima and failing.

Shirabu fidgeted grumpily for a few minutes, eventually settling and relaxing. He kept his hands away from Ushijima's armrest, but he didn't feel like scooting away to use the one on the other side. Ushijima was too engrossed in the movie to notice Shirabu skimming and stealing glimpses of his side, his view skewed by his height. Shirabu had to tilt his head up to see Ushijima's face without straining. Ushijima's sincere attention brought his face into a soft light, his mouth pressed together just a bit. Shirabu couldn't see his eyes clearly from the side, but they were clear, and reflecting the glow of the screen. When they flicked down to Shirabu, he realized Ushijima finally noticed, and he fixed ahead immediately.

After he relaxed, he fell into the true comfort of his seat again. He gravitated towards the armrest from instinct, his arms searching for it to lean into, and his hand grasped the plastic. His shoulder inclined to the armrest, and instantly, he seized up, the touch of Ushijima’s bare skin brushing his arm. The feeling of leaves rustled in his arm, faint contact, harkening to the time he accidentally brushed against Kawanishi. The contact itself was faint, but this time, a torrent of light stirrings impressed his arm, a full blown sensation that was engulfing, like the wind in Shirabu’s hair.

Shirabu retreated after what felt like an immediate moment. Ushijima’s attention followed. He sat higher in his chair.

“Are you alright?” He glanced towards Shirabu’s arm.

Shirabu’s eyes shifted to the side. “I am."

He ran his fingers over his arm. The sounds of explosions in the background should’ve run dissident with the situation, but he didn’t notice. He remembered the light echo of touch when Ushijima pulled petals out of his hair, his fingers touching his hair gently instead of his head.

Shirabu straightened completely in his seat. Ushijima still stared at him.

“You have a strange look on your face,” Ushijima remarked.

Shirabu looked up at him. “Like what?"

Ushijima’s eyes flickered, skipping around his face. “I think you look stunned."

Shirabu slouched and spun that apart in his head, staring unfocused at the screen. When he didn’t add anything else, Ushijima resumed his seat.

It didn't occur to Shirabu until the movie ended that neither of them remembered to buy any popcorn. He wanted to ask if Ushijima was hungry after stepping out of the theater, but they were interrupted by shock, and Ushijima stumbled from someone bumping into him.

"Sorry, Wakatoshi-kun," Tendou said. He patted Ushijima’s arm. "I only saw Kenjirou."

"Slow down next time,” Shirabu said, eyeing Tendou warily. He glanced over and saw Semi stepping next to Tendou.

"You're going to hurt someone!" Semi flicked Tendou's shoulder. Tendou rubbed at the area with a puffed frown.

"Is Kawanishi with you?" Shirabu asked.

"No. He took off right after practice," Semi said. "He helped with clean up, but he left as soon as he saw me."

"I think he left when he saw Tendou, and Tendou happened to be with you," Shirabu said.

"Kawanishi was sarcastic, too," Semi remarked.

Shirabu didn't know what else to say to Semi. He couldn't bring himself to defend Kawanishi. He'd rather wait and see Semi talk to him himself at practice. Kawanishi wasn't always _sarcastic_ , but his silent deadpan had its own subtle edge.

Semi moved on from the topic and raised an eyebrow. "You went to the movies together?"

"No, we went alone. Separately," Shirabu answered.

"You're just as bad as Kawanishi," Semi said with a faint disapproving rumble. His eyes shot up to Ushijima. "Tendou and I are on our way to eat. Want to come, Wakatoshi?" Semi waved his hand at Shirabu as Shirabu's mouth opened to complain. "You too."

"I'll come."

"Fine," Shirabu said. He turned to Tendou as the four of them started walking. He looked up at the trees in the sidewalk, taking in the expanse of green. All of the cherry blossoms were gone.

When his eyes fell back to earth, he found Tendou smiling at him.”Wakatoshi does that a lot, too,” he said, quietly enough for only Shirabu to hear. “Checks the trees everywhere."

Shirabu faced forward. "Why were you running?” he asked at a normal volume.

"I saw you from far away, Kenjirou! I wasn't going to be rude and ignore you in the middle of the street."

"It's a sidewalk," Shirabu said.

"'Middle of the street' is the saying. It's not catchy the other way."

Shirabu paused to glance at him blankly. "I barely understand."

"Shirabu, you and Kawanishi need to learn to stop being sarcastic," Semi advised.

"But that's not sarcasm." Shirabu stepped slightly closer to Ushijima, and he turned his head up. "I think you're my favorite," he said, his voice more sincere than it was with Semi.

"I appreciate your honest feelings, but I don't have favorites," Ushijima said.

Semi and Tendou snickered into their hands, their shoulders and arms shaking to hold in genuine laughter.

"Now you know not to suck up to him," Semi said.

Ushijima glanced at them in confusion. "Why are you laughing?"

Tendou's hand lazily reached for Ushijima's arm, skimming by him several times before catching. "Wakatoshi… You're really funny."

"We're laughing at Shirabu," Semi added.

Shirabu stared ahead with a dull pained look in his eyes.

"Are you alright, Shirabu?" Ushijima asked.

"I'm fine." Shirabu kept walking. He waited until their snorting died down to talk again. "Ushijima wouldn't tell me his favorite movie genre," he said to the three of them.

"He doesn't have one," Semi said.

"You thought I lied?" Ushijima asked.

"No. I just wanted to tell them," Shirabu said.

"You're a hard kouhai to predict." Tendou bent his head to look at Shirabu.

"I can never tell what any of you are thinking," Semi said. "In completely different ways."

"We don't talk to each other that much."

"I'm talking about today, Shirabu."

"I always thought you were predictable."

"Thanks, Tendou-san," Shirabu said.

"…That's sarcasm, isn't it," Tendou said.

"No," Shirabu said with a pause, a long enough one to make Tendou's eyes narrow.

Semi pressed his hand on a handle to open the door to a restaurant. "That's enough, Shirabu."

Shirabu walked in after him, and Tendou and Ushijima followed. Shirabu almost missed the seafood sign outside as he drifted into a seat across from Semi. Ushijima took a seat next to Shirabu, and Tendou sat across from him and tapped his fingers on the table.

Shirabu leaned into his hand and stared at the table after ordering sushi. "What's your favorite food, Ushijima-senpai?" he asked after everyone ordered.

Ushijima shifted in his seat, frowning. Shirabu didn't know if he could take it as fidgeting or not. "Hiyashi rice."

"Yeah, there isn't any of that here, or curry at all. Sorry, Wakatoshi." Tendou clapped him on the back.

Shirabu traced his finger on the table and ignored Tendou's side of the brief conversation with Ushijima. Ushijima listened to him as seriously as he always did, and he didn't add anything until Tendou asked him.

Semi looked ahead at Shirabu. "Tendou told me you run into him at the library a lot."

"It's the other way around."

"I don't know which of you I believe. I don't know who I want to believe."

"It's… We're not on trial," Shirabu said.

Semi mumbled and looked away. At the same time, Tendou pulled out his phone and leaned to Ushijima.

"Give me Kenjirou-kun's number," Tendou whispered.

"Why?"

"It's unfair that you and Taichi have it and I don't."

"I don't know it either."

"Don't call me Kenjirou," Shirabu said at a normal volume.

"You're not very attentive. I've been calling you Kenjirou this whole time," Tendou said proudly, his chin tilting up.

"Don't call me Kenjirou," Shirabu repeated.

"Call him Kenjirou," Tendou whispered to Ushijima.

"But he doesn't like it."

Semi reached forward and flicked at Tendou's arm again, making him retreat immediately. Tendou grimaced. "You don't do that to anyone else."

"I know that didn't hurt."

"The _gesture_ hurts." Tendou swiveled to Shirabu. "Give Wakatoshi-kun your number, so I can take it from him."

Shirabu pulled his hands closer to himself. "Why should I?"

"Because you two are friends."

"I'm not giving it to anyone here."

"You'll hurt our feelings," Tendou said.

"You ran into Ushijima-san."

"Friends forgive."

Shirabu grumbled and shifted away to Ushijima. He didn't want to keep arguing with Tendou, he'd rather move on. "Give me your phone."

Ushijima straightened and pulled it out of his pocket. Shirabu swiped it before Tendou could grab it, and he hunched to shield the screen and number presses as he typed out his number into Ushijima's contacts.

"Don't give it to Tendou," he said as he slid it back.

"I want to promise you, but sometimes Tendou takes my phone."

Shirabu's hand flattened on the table. "Why aren't you more possessive of your belongings?"

"I'm not possessive enough?"

The server walked up to their table then, lowering plates and placing them in front of everyone, and Shirabu and Ushijima stopped talking for the food. Shirabu glanced at Ushijima and flicked to eye Semi before picking up a roll with his chopsticks.

"I'm starving," Tendou said just before taking a bite. Semi paused and threw him a narrow, judgmental look. "I'm not talking and eating at the same time," Tendou said after swallowing.

"You almost did."

Tendou mimicked him silently with a twist of his mouth, and he went back to eating.

Shirabu slowed, his eyes falling back to Ushijima and flitting to his food. "Can I try one of yours?"

Ushijima picked one up and dropped it on Shirabu's plate. "Here."

Shirabu raised an eyebrow. He didn't expect Ushijima to give him one so easily. Shirabu lifted it to his mouth and nibbled at it, distant and fixed on tasting. After he finished eating all of his lunch, he continued to distantly look into the air to the side, spending some of that time ignoring Tendou.

"Are you alright, Shirabu?"

"I'm fine," Shirabu said. He stretched his arms and fell back in his seat, unaware of Ushijima's eyes on him until he glanced up. "Is there something on me?"

"No. Sorry." Ushijima lifted his head to Tendou. "Are you finished?"

"Nope." Tendou picked up his last sushi roll and stuffed it into his mouth.

Semi's nose wrinkled next to him. "Now he is."

"He might eat the plate next," Shirabu said.

Tendou made strangled noises from his throat, frowning and humming irritably. He swallowed after a minute of chewing. "I've never eaten the plate before," Tendou said defensively.

Semi and Ushijima stood up, and Shirabu followed after stumbling around a chair. Tendou took a napkin with him, stuffing it into his pocket after taking a last sip from his drink. He let the door close after himself, and he stepped beside Semi.

"I have to go to the train station now," Shirabu said.

"Going home?" Ushijima asked.

Shirabu flipped his phone open to check the time. "My parents are expecting me today. I didn't think I'd take so long eating, so I'm kind of late."

"You shouldn't keep them waiting, then."

"I know." Shirabu glanced and waved at them, and he hurried away to catch the train. He checked the timetable on his phone and saw that the next train was leaving soon, and he burst into a run.

He caught his breath at the station, and he leaned against a post to wait a minute as the next train pulled in and came to a stop. After he stepped in and took a seat, he checked his phone again. Ushijima hadn't called or texted to confirm his number. Shirabu slouched in his seat in bored disappointment, and he let his phone rest on his leg and leaned to the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Estuary means an area of water where the ocean and river meet.
> 
> 2\. Zinnias mean loyalty in hanakotoba.


	5. Chapter 5

Shirabu leaned his head into his arms and rested on the library table, watching Semi eye Kawanishi's writing. Ushijima sat next to Shirabu again, and by now Shirabu was comfortable enough to visibly ignore when Ushijima sat beside him.

"I can't tell what this is," Semi whispered.

"It doesn't matter. I don't know why you're even looking at my homework," Kawanishi whispered back.

"It's sitting in front of me."

"That's not a reason."

Shirabu rolled his head to the side. "How much homework do you have?" he asked Ushijima.

"Not that much." Ushijima slid his notebook a little bit and showed him a couple pages of problems.

Shirabu grumbled. He had taken a break from studying, and he lost his motivation completely. He sat there quietly and spent ten minutes glancing around, tracing his finger on the edge of the table, flipping pages in his book absentmindedly, and shifting to lean back or stretch.

He channeled his boredom to slide his arm along the table, closer to Ushijima. He nudged his hand around, tracing his fingers with enough pressure on the table surface to make small squeaks. He did it back and forth, and the rhythmic pattern desensitized the tips of his fingers, making them feel pleasantly numb.

Ushijima turned his head. "Aren't you going to study?" he asked.

Shirabu sat up and waved his hand lazily. "In a little while."

Ushijima hesitated. "You said that ten minutes ago."

"I know. Ten more minutes."

Ushijima hovered his hand over Shirabu's shoulder, and after deliberating, he retreated. "You've already wasted a lot of time."

Shirabu didn't move. "I only wasted ten minutes," Shirabu mumbled. He sat up. "Fine, I'll study."

Ushijima returned to working, finally satisfied. Semi continued hassling Kawanishi on his messy writing, but they were mostly quiet. Shirabu struggled to concentrate with them whispering to each other even when they tried being quiet.

"It's almost as bad as Satori's writing."

"I don't care," Kawanishi said, his voice neutral enough to show he genuinely didn't care.

"Can you be quieter, Semi?" Ushijima asked.

Semi pushed Kawanishi's notebook away. "I'll stop."

"Finally," Kawanishi mumbled.

Semi turned and fell into silence as he read, pointedly facing away from Kawanishi.

Shirabu studied for some of the time, but he ended up distracted by the thought of the upcoming summer vacation. Shiratorizawa was going to have another training camp during vacation, and Shirabu had thought about going to the beach and swimming to cool off before camp. He was comfortable with winter and being cold, but he couldn't stand staying outside during the day in the summer with the sweltering sun and dry breezes.

By the time everyone decided to leave, Shirabu realized he barely finished in time. He shuffled everything into his backpack and followed them out, stepping around Kawanishi to Ushijima's side.

"There's only a week and a half left before summer break," Semi said. "Don't slack off."

"Who are you talking to?" Shirabu asked.

"Both of you."

Shirabu squinted through the flare of sunlight as they passed through the library doors. A gust of heat blew and enveloped him, and he itched from the hot discomfort.

They walked for several minutes, everyone on their way back to the dorm building a short distance away. Shirabu mumbled goodbye to them and trudged up the stairs to his room, dropping his bag on the table and closing the door some of the way.

By now his room had a couple posters for decoration, along with picture frames and a painting of a tree his mom had insisted on and pushed into his room. All the invisible necessities were stocked and stored, and he didn't have anything he forgot to buy the way he did in the beginning of the school year. It felt useless to fill his room with too many things when it wasn't his actual room, and when he spent most of his studying time at the library, so he still kept the furniture plain and didn't add anything else.

Shirabu flopped onto his bed, sinking and sighing into his pillow. He decided taking a nap was the best thing to do when he was tired and didn't know what else to do, and he pulled the blanket over himself, not bothering to take off his socks. Shirabu didn't feel the usual slow descent into unconsciousness, and when he lifted his head again, he checked the time and realized he had slept for two hours.

He dropped his head back, squashing his face on the pillow.

 

* * *

 

A shadow fell over Shirabu and Kawanishi sitting in the hall of the dorm building. Shirabu could guess that it was someone from class or from the team, the usual suspects, but he thought that ignoring them would be better than asking if it was Semi or Tendou.

Kawanishi glanced up. "Tendou?"

Tendou leaned over, his arms resting on the back of a chair. "You look busy."

"We're going to the beach tomorrow," Kawanishi said. Shirabu continued staring at his phone.

"That's amazing! I am, too."

"No you're not," Shirabu said.

Tendou moved around the chair to sit down. "Aren't you going to ask us to come?"

"We thought about asking at practice today." Shirabu looked back to his phone.

"And?"

"That's all."

Tendou swiveled to Kawanishi. "We should all go as a team, Taichi."

"The volleyball team has way too many people."

"Then only invite a few people." Tendou gestured at himself.

“Ushijima-san and Semi-san, then," Shirabu said.

Tendou slid to the edge of his chair. "You're forgetting someone."

"I was joking about forgetting you," Shirabu said flatly. He turned to Kawanishi. "We should get going for practice in a little while."

"Alright…"

Tendou stood up and hovered around them, pressuring them to get up and leave. After he convinced them and led them out, he turned to Shirabu. "You're lucky vacation didn't start tomorrow, or you wouldn't be able to go at all. Training camp starts on the weekend of vacation."

"We both know."

"Next time you should ask right away, so your senpai can tell you about these pitfalls."

Shirabu fell into pained silence, letting Kawanishi talk to Tendou as they walked to the gym. Shirabu sometimes ignored Tendou, but by now he had the feeling that Kawanishi only pretended to ignore Tendou.

Shirabu opened the door and let them inside, and they spread out to go to the locker room and stretch. Ushijima walked up to Shirabu and stopped him when he came out of the locker room.

"Did you want me to spike for you?"

"You don't have to." Shirabu tightened his hands on the volleyball in his hands and turned it over. "But if you want to, you can."

Shirabu and Ushijima gathered at the net and settled into a rhythm of tossing and spiking for a few minutes. Shirabu's tosses still felt unsteady and unsure from the new angle, but a couple of them wobbled less than before. Ushijima didn't complain about them, and his disappointed frown didn't return.

Shirabu saw Semi practicing in the distance. Semi stretched his arms and rolled his wrists before picking up a volleyball. In between tosses, Shirabu noticed him practicing serves, his frown disappearing as his concentration erased any disappointment or annoyance he had. Semi practiced by himself for the few minutes before practice, but when Tendou passed by, he lifted a volleyball half-threateningly and made Tendou step to the side so he wouldn't interfere.

Shirabu bounced the volleyball in his hands. He didn't practice serves that much, but he didn't have the time to focus on them when he was still struggling to toss. Spreading himself too much would slow him down.

Shirabu's shoulders fell and his eyes dulled as he thought about tossing to Tendou. He only did it a few times, but he was going to have to try again eventually.

"Shirabu?" Ushijima asked.

Shirabu turned to him slowly. "Sorry."

He returned the volleyball to the cart after one more toss. Washijou called them to the start of practice, and Shirabu jogged laps around the court to warm up for the rest of practice.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu shuffled through the sand, flinching from the water sloshing against his legs at his waist. The water was pleasantly warm from the sun, but the liquid quality of it was cold enough to make him cringe.

Ushijima, Reon, and Tendou waded past him and went deep enough into the water to start swimming. Semi was still behind Shirabu. He frowned more than him, and moved more slowly.

"Do you know how to swim?" Shirabu asked, his voice flat but still sarcastic.

"Of course I know how to swim." Semi stumbled and struggled in the water to hurry away from Shirabu.

Shirabu edged into the water, the sea level rising to his neck faster than it did with the others. Shirabu shoved away the flaunted point of his short height and eased into swimming, paddling with his head held above the water. He could only manage paddling with his hands and kicking miserably to stay afloat, his head sticking up and struggling to not fall underwater.

Kawanishi swam by him with easy strokes, and he slowed down beside Shirabu. "Paddling?"

Shirabu squinted to focus past him. Kawanishi didn't bother hiding a smug smile, and he stopped moving to tread. Shirabu cycled his hands faster to swim away.

He didn't want to swim too far out from the shore, but Ushijima, Tendou, Reon, and Yamagata were still further out, and he swam around slowly to wait for them to come back. Semi swam at a low speed as well, keeping his head straight and high as much as possible.

"Is something wrong?" Shirabu asked, his voice in a waver from the trembling effort of staying in one place.

"I don't want to get my head wet," Semi said.

"Why?"

"I don't want water and sand in my ear." Semi's nose wrinkled. "You're barely swimming."

"You're not swimming, either." Shirabu glanced down at Semi's arms. His strokes didn't temporarily bring him underwater like everyone else. He used weak strokes that were almost as slow as Shirabu's.

Shirabu felt a current in the water propel by, and he turned and found Ushijima swimming next to him and pausing.

"You're not a fast swimmer," Ushijima said.

"I know," Shirabu grumbled. He kept paddling, and Ushijima continued swimming beside him.

Ushijima floated on his side and stayed close to Shirabu. Shirabu concentrated on maintaining the distance, and his attention fragmented into swimming, keeping the space between them, and thinking blankly about Ushijima, not holding any thoughts about him but just flitting to him and keeping him in frame. Shirabu become so ensconced in the effort that he fumbled and slipped underwater. The water wasn't that deep, and Shirabu knew he could return to the surface, but his feet still clawed at the sandy ocean floor to push up to the surface. He shot up blindly, and the rush of wind over the sea encouraged him to open his eyes.

Shirabu gasped for air. He quickly recovered and narrowed his eyes, throwing a glance around to see who else potentially saw him slip. His slight glare hid the embarrassed wrinkles and twitches in his face.

"I still know how to swim, I'm fine," Shirabu said to Ushijima. He flapped and scrabbled to gain some distance from Ushijima, but he remained close by from his slow speed. He ended up paddling in a circle to find a place near him to pause.

Ushijima tilted his head. "Your swimming reminds me of a dog."

"That's because he's dog paddling," Tendou said. He lifted his hands and pawed the air, mimicking Shirabu as he pretended to also sift through water with the motions.

"A dog?" Shirabu repeated, sinking in the waves in disappointment.

"A small puppy," Ushijima clarified. “Larger dogs swim better."

Yamagata choked on water as everyone burst out laughing. Ushijima failed to see the joke, and his eyebrow rose, but he didn't ask about it.

Shirabu paddled harder to swim away. "This isn't funny." He glared at the shore ahead and leaned forward to force himself to swim faster, his head wobbling from his uneven swimming.

“Not having fun? I’ll make it fun,” Tendou said. He slapped the ocean, and water splashed onto Semi’s face.

Semi squeezed his eyes shut. “Satori!"

“Now you might as well swim underwater."

“I don’t need to."

Tendou sunk and disappeared in a smooth movement to the depths as Semi wiped water from his eyes. He checked his ears next, but then he yelped and jerked.

“He’s _pulling my foot_."

Yamagata and Reon started splashing at him, and he fumbled to shield himself with his arms, until he slipped underwater. He and Tendou both reappeared and broke the sea for air. Kawanishi didn’t stop swimming around everyone in a slow circle.

Semi slapped water back at Tendou. “Fine, you win. I swam underwater."

Tendou opened his eye with his fingers. “I opened my eyes in the water."

Semi grimaced.

“I went real low to the sand down there. Did you know there’s seaweed? It’s slimy and slithery. Could’ve sworn it was a sea snake or jellyfish."

“Stop."

Reon cringed. “There aren’t snakes around here, are there?"

“You never know…"

“Satori, this is the _worst_ time for horror stories,” Yamagata said.

“Everyone tells me they’re bad, though. Boring, not believable."

Tendou made a slow flinch. “What was that? I think something touched me."

“You’re a bad actor,” Shirabu said.

Ushijima glanced down at the water. “I don’t see anything."

“Of course there’s something, I—“ Tendou stopped. “There’s something touching me."

“You said that already.” Shirabu sighed.

“I’m serious. Something went by my foot.” Tendou’s eyes lost the wide set appearance and entertained wrinkles. “ _It did it again_."

“That was me,” Semi said. “Scared?"

“No. When you do it, it really is boring.” Tendou turned away and kicked his feet to swim.

“You sounded scared, though,” Yamagata said. Tendou didn’t answer.

Shirabu drifted away and swam back and forth for a little while, unable to decide between stepping onto the shore or returning to the others, and the decision was made for him when Kawanishi and Yamagata made for land to eat a snack. Shirabu sat in a chair next to Kawanishi and slowly chewed on orange slices, and the two of them watched Yamagata try to build a sand castle with Hijiori and Akayu, who had been eating oranges the whole time.

After a row of vaguely shaped stumps sprouted from their efforts, Kawanishi stood up. “They're terrible. I _have_ to help them."

Shirabu watched him proceed to flatten each of the sand mounds without a word of warning to anyone. Kawanishi picked up the pail and started remaking them, and Yamagata and Akayu didn't calm down until a genuine sand castle began to form. Hijiori fell silent in the background. He watched them argue until he retreated to the shade for a drink, and didn’t return.

Shirabu turned away and bit another orange slice while looking out at the ocean. Ushijima, Tendou, Reon, and Semi were stepping out of the water then, and that didn't occur to him until he realized he was blanking and zoning out with his eyes on them. None of them were wearing shirts to swim, but it wasn't obvious and present in his mind until that moment, with water dripping over Ushijima's arms and down his chest.

Shirabu sunk his teeth into his orange slice and sucked, rearranging his attention away to ignore them walking by. Tendou picked up an orange and sat next to him. He peeled his fruit with a nod.

Ushijima, Semi, and Reon joined Kawanishi in helping make Yamagata and Akayu a new sand castle. They managed to build a small wall of sand together, and Yamagata's vague sand mounds were forgotten.

"Aren't you going help them? That looks like something you'd do," Shirabu said to Tendou, motioning at the growing castle.

"They already ruined it. Look, it's so plain."

"It's sand," Shirabu said with a flat pause.

"With them, it is."

"What is it to you, then?"

Tendou chewed and swallowed his last slice, and he pointed at the sand castle and stood up to head over to it. He pushed Kawanishi away and stepped over a fallen shovel to etch something into the castle wall, drawing a decorative border along the top and writing his name underneath it.

Shirabu became bored of watching him, and his attention caught on Ushijima at the other side of the castle. He was leaning over to fix an arch, and Shirabu could see the front of him from the angle, his stomach muscle tensing a little with the movement as he patted and shaped sand. Ushijima’s face tugged in amused expressions, and his mouth softened with his eyes. He wiped his arm over his mouth.

Shirabu glanced to the others and skimmed over them, familiarizing himself with the fact that it was just impressive muscle. He forced his eyes to narrow again, and he stared past everyone.

Castle building bored them all after it was completed and there was nothing else to add to it. Tendou and Kawanishi milled around the castle to look at it with Yamagata and Akayu, and Ushijima, Reon, and Semi settled down beside Shirabu. They sat and looked up to watch Tendou push Kawanishi into the castle.

Shirabu dragged his hand in the sand and stared ahead at the ocean, ignoring the group talking next to him. Hijiori returned from his silent isolation under an umbrella and sat on Shirabu’s other side.

“Did I miss anything?” Hijiori asked.

“No."

“Kawanishi is lying in a giant pile of sand. With walls of sand around him."

“They built a castle, and Tendou shoved him.” Shirabu sifted his fingers through the sand and sunk his hand in. The yielding, shapeless warmth flowed around his hand, engulfing it to his wrist in a gentle unbroken presence.

“Do you consider sand dirt?” Hijiori asked.

Shirabu’s arms fell. “I don’t know. Do you?"

Hijiori rubbed the back of his hand under his chin. “Hmm…. No."

Shirabu didn’t answer him. He spread his hand, pushing it in absentmindedly and getting lost in the sensation, the same way he did when he traced his fingers on the library desk.

“Sand and dirt come from the same place though, don’t they? I can’t tell where one stops and the other ends."

“That’s the way the earth is. It’s one continuous mass of rock,” Shirabu said. His eyebrows came together. “You know, I used to think you were a little shy, but you won’t stop talking now."

Hijiori grew quiet. Shirabu coughed into his shoulder, but he still fell into a brief laugh, his body shaking down to his arm in the sand. Hijiori looked at him.

“I was teasing,” Shirabu said after a minute.

“Isn’t it true? You’re right. It’s hard to talk to strangers."

“Hijiori, I was just trying to get you to stop talking."

“It’s _hard_ to talk to some people, like Ushijima-san,” Hijiori continued. “How do you do it?"

The levity faded from Shirabu’s face. He sat back, crossing both arms, letting the sand scatter over his shorts as he thought. “I don’t know."

Hijiori wilted. “The last time I remember talking to him, I laughed in his face when he broke my pencil."

Shirabu stifled his sudden laugh into his fist.

“It’s not that funny."

“I’m laughing at Ushijima-san, not you.” Shirabu leaned back onto his hands and stretched his legs out. “That was ridiculous. I still can’t believe he broke the pencil."

Hijiori kept frowning. “What do you think of him, then? Is it weirder now that he’s going to be captain?"

“Not really. He acts the same."

HIjiori’s thoughts audibly drew out into a sighing groan. After a pause, he asked, “How do you get Ushijima-san to talk to you so much?"

“I’m not sure."

“You have to know _something_."

Shirabu glanced up at the sky. “I can’t think of anything."

“Akayu’s right, though. As soon as he talks or steps off the court, he’s awkward. That surprised me so much the first day of practice."

“I got used to it.” Shirabu skimmed his hands across the sand. His mouth twitched.

Hijiori leaned forward. “Are you smiling?"

“No."

“What’s so entertaining?"

“I’m not smiling."

“For a second, you were."

“No."

“Why won’t you admit it?"

“I wasn’t smiling. You imagined it."

Hijiori let out an unsatisfied huff. He hunched over the sand and gathered his hands to form a lump of sand, patting it and squashing the sides into a misshapen tower. Shirabu leaned backward and pressed his back into the sand, and he covered his eyes with his arm to shield his face from the sun. The sand rubbed and pricked against his back, but he didn’t move after falling still.

A towel fell over his head, and he blinked into the sudden darkness. He remained motionless.

“Shirabu?” Ushijima asked.

Shirabu pulled it away and looked up. “A towel?"

“Lying in the sand isn’t that comfortable. ...And you’re exposed to the sun."

Shirabu prickled when Ushijima’s eyes flicked to his stomach. He sat up and smoothed the towel on the floor, and he reclaimed his place, rolling over onto his back again. Semi and Tendou laughed to Reon in the distance, but he didn’t bother to look.

Ushijima walked away. He returned with another towel, and he dropped it on Shirabu’s face again. Hijiori broke into a bark of laughter, and after a second, he covered his mouth.

“Why’re you giving me another one?” Shirabu lifted it off his head.

“I thought you might like another."

Shirabu looked at it and let it flap back over his eyes.

Ushijima shuffled his feet in the sand. “I meant for that to cover your stomach,” he said.

“I’m wearing sunblock.” Shirabu sighed. He didn’t say anything else, and Ushijima sat down next to Semi again. Hijiori leaned closer to Shirabu.

“I did it again… I laughed right at him,” he whispered.

“You’re taking this too seriously."

Hijiori stood up and headed to the cooler, grumbling as he passed. He returned with an orange and plopped down beside Shirabu. Ushijima and Semi’s voices filled the languid silence, and Shirabu tuned in, wandering quietly into their conversation.

“I swim fine,” Semi said.

“Did you learn to swim from a proper teacher?"

“Yes."

Ushijima regarded him with a level stare.

Shirabu sighed and tuned out from the words. The conversation was pointless, but the dips and turns of Ushijima’s voice held Shirabu’s attention as he stared out at the ocean.

 

* * *

 

Sand was still imprinted in Shirabu’s mind days after the beach excursion. He washed his swim shorts twice, and he dumped sand out of his shoes even though he didn't wear them until he left the beach.

He shoved his beach clothes to the back of a drawer in his dresser. He didn't think he'd need them for a while, and he wanted to forget them. He shuffled more clothes and supplies around after he packed them away, pushing things into his closet and drawers without trying too hard to fit them together or fold them.

His phone vibrated on his desk. His hand reached out for it in a lazy swipe, and he picked it up without looking. "Hello?"

“Tendou?” Ushijima asked.

Shirabu sighed and leaned his elbows on the desk. “No. This is Shirabu."

"Oh."

"Why do you need Tendou?"

"I can't find something. I was wondering if he's seen it."

"What did you lose?"

"..."

Shirabu heard rustling on the other line, too heavy to be clothes moving around. The dampened effect of hands brushing together made Shirabu pause and press closer to the phone. Ushijima was fidgeting.

Hot air rose to Shirabu's head. He coughed. "What is it?" Shirabu asked again.

"I borrowed Semi's pen."

"And you lost it."

Ushijima remained quiet. Shirabu imagined him looking serious, his mouth slightly tight and to the side, ruining the impassivity for a small frown approaching a pout.

"I don't think Semi cares about a pen. He probably forgot about it."

"If I lent a pen to someone, and they lost it, I'd take notice."

"That's because you're you, Ushijima-senpai." Shirabu slid into his chair and leaned over a book. "Is there anything else?"

"What do you mean?" Ushijima asked.

"Is the pen the only thing that's happened today?"

"I finished my homework."

"That's not what I meant."

Ushijima made a questioning noise. "Summer camp is coming. Did you mean something like that?"

"Not really..." Shirabu's lazy posture brought him into leaning into his hand, loosening with a mumble. "I have homework to do. Goodnight, Ushijima-san."

"Goodnight, Shirabu. Sleep well." Ushijima ended the call. His voice lingered, echoing his name in deep syllables for a moment.

Shirabu lowered his phone to the desk. It wasn't late, but he wasn't going to sleep within the next hour. It'd probably be late by the time he finished.

He slouched back in his chair, tired and wondering. That was the first phone call he ever had with Ushijima.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu rubbed his head and leaned on the kitchen counter. His floor's kitchen was empty at the moment, and he could finally close the blinds and turn off the lights without complaints or odd looks. Early morning was the worst time for any unnecessary light stimuli. He woke up and went straight to the kitchen to eat every day, fresh out of bed, and his first instinct jumped to close the blinds and shield the kitchen and himself from the sun for a few more minutes before he walked outside.

Water boiled on the stove, and rice cooked in the rice cooker. Shirabu's hand dragged up against his face as he leaned into it and waited for the food. He didn't have the strength to dive into a big breakfast, and he only had the appetite for rice, soup, and an egg. The egg still sat in its shell on a paper towel, ready to be cooked, but he set it aside and waited for the water and rice to be half-done until starting.

The door opened. Shirabu heard it, and he didn't bother checking to see who it was. He remained motionless until the light switch flipped on, and he groaned.

"It's too bright and early," he complained. He turned, already halfway crumbled, his head lowered to his arms.

Ushijima raised an eyebrow. "It is?"

Shirabu turned back. "It is."

"You shouldn't have the light off. You can't see."

"I see fine."

Ushijima stepped up to the rice cooker, fixed a stare at it, and moved away to retrieve a blender from a cabinet.

Shirabu groaned again and covered his ears when the blender turned on. It only whirred for a minute, but it still made itself heard through his hands to his ears.

Ushijima turned it off. "Does the noise bother you?"

"I'm surprised the whole building didn't hear it." Shirabu's arms fell, and he moved to the stove to add the ingredients for soup.

Ushijima shifted in idleness. His eyes flicked back to the busy rice cooker.

"I'm almost done with that." Shirabu pressed his hand into the side of his forehead. "I didn't know you got up at this time."

"I usually wake up earlier to run, but occasionally I sleep in."

"You call this sleeping in," Shirabu mumbled. He stirred the soup pot and rested back on the counter.

The rice cooker beeped, and he uncovered it and poured the rice out into a bowl. He gestured over at the appliance and stepped away. "It's all yours."

"Thank you." Ushijima opened the pantry and carried out a cup of rice to fill the cooker. "It doesn't seem like you normally wake up at this hour."

"I don't." Shirabu rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"You're still in your pajamas."

"I don't care."

Shirabu opened his eyes, and he found Ushijima turning away quickly. He snorted and glanced down at his shorts.

"They're a little short, but it's _summer_. It's too hot for anything else." Shirabu fired up another burner on the stove and cracked an egg into a pan.

"O-oh."

"Do you run every day?" Shirabu asked.

"Almost."

"Even when we have morning practice?"

"Yes."

"That's...I don't think I'd do that." Shirabu crouched to a low cabinet and took out a lid for the pot. He covered it and focused on his egg.

"You wouldn't like to go with me or someone else?"

Shirabu shrugged and stirred the egg with chopsticks. He paused and glanced up at him. "Wait, are you asking?"

"No..." Ushijima cleared his throat. "But now that you mention it, would you like to?"

Shirabu resumed stirring, slowly. "I...I guess. Yeah. It'd be okay with you."

"I'm going running tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? That soon?"

Ushijima's hand stopped on a cabinet knob. He looked back at Shirabu in silence.

"Alright, for one day." Shirabu checked on the soup and stirred it again. He switched and slid the egg onto the rice bowl, and when he finished, he stared into the bowl, listening to Ushijima drink his smoothie. He broke, shook his head, and carried his food out to eat.

 

* * *

 

 

Shirabu valued sleep. He stayed in bed until the last minute he could postpone getting dressed, he used the snooze button on his phone alarm liberally, and he intentionally slept in when someone asked him to breakfast or a morning trip somewhere. Shirabu didn't accept invitations for an early run, and he didn't make them.

None of that mattered today in the rising summer morning. Shirabu woke up early and met him outside the dorm building, blinking and rubbing at his eyes as he shuffled down. He was tired and barely awake, his vision bleary for the first few minutes, but he pushed to fight his lethargy. He stood outside in his sweats, folding his leg up to stretch it. Ushijima was quietly stretching next to him. He extended his arms and alternated them, and he moved on to twisting at his waist. The mark of seriousness in his face and decisive ease in his movements drew Shirabu's eyes once every few moments.

He felt small and messy in his wrinkled sweats he had pulled on, with his hair untamable from bed and his eyes unfocused with a disguised yawn. Ushijima stood tall in his loose sweats, even while reaching for his feet to stretch, and he rolled his shoulders next. Shirabu glanced at him and watched him. His head turned just a little to take in his controlled movements.

"Are you ready?" Ushijima asked.

Shirabu nodded with slow reluctance. Ushijima's first few steps already accelerated him faster than Shirabu, and he had to push harder to catch up and keep up, tearing into a run he could afford with his morning energy.

"Do you want to go slower?" Ushijima asked.

"No…I'm fine," Shirabu said with halting puffs of breath.

Ushijima's mouth pulled into a frown. "You won't last very long. You'll wear yourself out."

Ushijima's legs slowed, and Shirabu winded down to a calmer speed, exhaling a stuttering breath in involuntary relief. His effort wasn't channeled to just running anymore, and he could take in the buildings and trees in the scenery as they jogged by. The cherry blossoms were all gone now, but almost all the other flowers and trees were in bloom in the warm weather, petals bright and leaves glistening with morning dewdrops. Bushes growing along the yards and sidewalks filled the space between the trees, verdant and sharp, sometimes red-leaved.

The air was already warm from the summer sun, and Shirabu breathed it in. The jagged sting of the brief run ebbed from his muscles and lungs.

Ushijima was undisturbed by the change in speed, his face calm as he looked ahead. Shirabu didn't feel jealous of his smooth speed and adept movements, but he still felt a burn as he watched Ushijima's arms match a comfortable rhythm with his legs, his mouth open with slight breaths and his chest filling and exhaling with air. He breathed audibly, huffing peacefully and rhythmically, grunting in occasional steps.

The brightening sun rays glowed warm across Shirabu’s face, and the ache of exertion in his legs and arms agonized, and still, Shirabu’s face burned, with a pointed heat that made him glare ahead.

They continued to jog around nearby streets, staying close to the Shiratorizawa area. Rays of light from the dawning sun fragmented through tree branches and flickered gold light over them. A few people were awake and walking on the sidewalks at the same time as them, with strollers or dogs on leashes. They passed by strollers without event, but when someone with a large dog crossed paths with them from the opposite direction, Ushijima stopped them.

After a pause, he motioned down. "What's your dog's name?"

The stranger paused and looked up at him. When she glanced at them and saw them watching her dog, she smiled. "Her name's Akari… Do you want to pet her?"

Ushijima nodded and crouched to the dog's level. His hand landed on her head and ruffled her fur. She wagged her tail and opened her mouth in a cheerful pant, lighting up into a thrilled Shiba Inu. Ushijima asked the owner something else and started a cordial conversation with them, and Shirabu stayed silent, his eyes between the Ushijima and Akari. Even though Shirabu was tired at this point, and he took the break to breathe and rest, Ushijima didn't show any signs of fatigue. His eyes were soft as he petted Akari, his mouth lifting a little, his fingers sifting through fur in relaxed motions. His hand wasn't as awkward as his words were, and Akari rewarded him with an appreciative lick.

Ushijima stood up. "It's time to go, Shirabu. Thank you for letting me pet Akari."

He pulled away to guide them back into running. Shirabu glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't know you liked dogs so much."

"Of course. I adore them. Don't you?"

"Uh, of course." Shirabu paused in surprise, but his mouth twitched into a brief smile. He returned to jogging in silence beside Ushijima, his eyes flicking up occasionally at him.

At the end of the jog they returned to the front of the dorm building. Shirabu’s feet thudded heavily until his fatigue skidded him to a stop. He cleaned off sweat with his hand and bent his arms above his head to breathe, fighting the urge to sit down and come to a cold stop.

Ushijima pulled up his shirt from the collar, wiping at his neck as he looked at the ground in thought. His shirt lifted away from his sweatpants, his stomach slightly visible above the waist, with sweat and a slight curve of muscle. There was sweat on his forehead as well, and Shirabu felt his stomach plummet taking it all in at once. Ushijima's head fell to meet Shirabu's eyes, and Shirabu turned his head away, his mouth working into a tight press of his lips to the side.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu dumped his sports bag on the floor. Summer vacation was here, meaning the second week-long training camp was starting, and Shirabu was already stuffing his bag under a cot to claim it. It wasn't right in the middle of the room, but it was next to Ushijima's and Kawanishi's cots, to the side near the wall. Shirabu chose it on purpose, and he had hurried to find Akayu, Hijiori, or Kawanishi to drag them and make one of them choose the cot next to his before someone else got to it.

Kawanishi glanced around. "Shirabu, have you seen Semi?"

"No. Why?"

"I think he was looking for you."

"...Why didn't you tell me that sooner?" Shirabu asked, the pause drawing out his annoyance.

"I just remembered."

Shirabu looked at him as he tugged the covers over his cot and rearranged his pillow at the head of the bed. He pulled his hands away and turned, and he walked out as he glanced around and headed into the hallway.

Semi was leaning on a wall next to Reon and Tendou, and Tendou gestured in a conversation between them. The three of them stopped talking and directed their attention to Shirabu as he came closer.

“Semi-san, did you want to see me?" Shirabu asked Semi. Tendou whispered something to Reon, but Shirabu ignored him.

" _Earlier_. Did Kawanishi barely tell you?"

"He forgot. It's not a big deal, Semi-san."

Semi straightened from the wall. "Well… Washijou was actually the one who brought it up, but if you don't think it's a big deal…"

Shirabu's nose twitched as his eyes fixed on Semi quietly. "What was it?"

"He wants you to toss to Wakatoshi in practice today. Just show up early to practice."

Shirabu's eyes calmed, his mouth falling neutrally. "What?"

"Everyone on the team's seen you toss to him. Of course Washijou wants to see you try it in practice."

Shirabu dusted off his arms to busy himself. He didn't remember or pay attention to how others saw it when they watched him toss to Ushijima, but he completely forgot that their coach had to have seen it happen. They tossed and spiked together before practice in plain sight on the gym floor.

"You're probably right," Shirabu said.

He left them and doubled back on his route to his cot. He sat on it and stared into space, pretending to be bored. The training camp facilities were set up now, and there was nothing to do in the half hour before practice.

Kawanishi entered the room and stopped at his cot. The approach drew Shirabu’s attention.

"Kawanishi, are you ready to practice?"

"Now?" Kawanishi asked. His hands hovered over his backpack for his water bottle.

"Why not?"

Kawanishi's eyes blinked in slow resignation, his body rising to an unresisting breath. He zipped and packed his backpack under his cot, and he carried his water bottle in his free hand.

Shirabu and Kawanishi walked to the gym with the volleyball net already set up. The team managers and a few players milled around and casually practiced.

Shirabu joined in the atmosphere and made a few light tosses to Kawanishi. His eyes darted around the gym once in a while to check for Ushijima or Washijou. Kawanishi's eyes followed his, but Kawanishi didn't comment on it. He kept up the idle practice and returned Shirabu's tosses.

Kawanishi missed a toss. Shirabu’s shoulders squared, preparing to scold him for missing the toss completely. Kawanishi's hand found nothing as it swung through empty air, his eyes elsewhere and his timing off by seconds.

"That was terrible," Washijou said, and Shirabu stiffened, his back to Washijou as Kawanishi silently and sheepishly glanced away.

"I think you startled him, Coach Washijou, that's why," Shirabu said when he turned.

Washijou returned a heavy critical look between them both. "As long as it doesn't happen again." He looked at Shirabu. "Ushijima should be here in a minute or two. When he is, start tossing to him. You might toss for a practice match this week."

Shirabu and Kawanishi's eyes met with wide disbelief. Washijou left them in silence.

"Is he actually considering making you a starting member?" Kawanishi asked.

Shirabu removed himself from his confusion and rolled his eyes. "He's just testing me."

"Alright…" Kawanishi approached his water bottle and crouched to the sideline for a drink, wiping at his mouth with his arm afterward. His eyes opened further in alertness, and he jerked his chin up. "Ushijima's here."

Shirabu's head shot up. Ushijima was at the door from the locker room, Semi beside him in an unreadable but neutral conversation. Ushijima broke away from him and headed to Kawanishi and Shirabu, striding toward them with serious intent.

Shirabu ducked and hurried to grab the volleyball off the floor, the beat in his chest flaring faster. He spun the ball in his hands calmly, but his throat jumped with his stomach, his eyes flickering over Ushijima's face and arms.

This alone wasn't that nerve rattling. Shirabu was still comfortable tossing to him in the isolated vacuum of the almost empty court before practice even began, with nothing else happening to worry about or focus on and distract him.

Ushijima acted on his toss with a strong steady spike, the connection much smoother than the first tosses weeks ago. Shirabu stepped back from the toss with a shaky but satisfied breath. He lowered his arms and relaxed as he quietly asked Ushijima for his response.

"Good job, Shirabu," Ushijima said. "You've improved."

Shirabu spent a few moments struggling to find a better reply, but he ended up simply saying, “Thank you."

Washijou nodded. "That's fine. Just don't get caught up in the other players when you toss later."

Shirabu returned to tossing to Ushijima and Kawanishi. They waited for the rest of the team to drift in and for practice to start.

After a warm up jog and a round of receive drills, Shirabu was placed on tossing practice as Ushijima's setter for a brief intramural practice match. There wasn't a shortage of players with their large numbers, so they could play a fully assembled game by themselves, but Shirabu knew there was little experience to be gained from playing against each other over and over. They knew each other too well for any intramural match to be a challenging match unless they shuffled the team members.

Shirabu sucked in a slow breath as he joined them on the court. It felt like a small step to actually setting in a game, but that came as a good thing. Working his way up from setting with a match between Shiratorizawa players, to a practice match with another team, to a real game, would settle his nerves with the experience.

Shirabu windmilled his arm and bounced a little. Semi was the other side's setter, and he stood on the court next to Tendou, waiting for Reon's serve to start the game. Ushijima and Kawanishi were on Shirabu's side, chosen because of his experience with them, along with Soekawa and two other second years. Semi had Hijiori, Tendou, a first year and a second year, and Reon. Akayu stood on the sideline with Yutagawa.

Reon's serve sailed over the net. Shirabu slid away to let someone receive it. The bail arched up from Soekawa’s receive, and Shirabu automatically moved to set to Kawanishi. He didn't want to start with a toss to Ushijima right away, and he knew he wanted to start with something comfortable. He thought his first toss through in advance.

Kawanishi's spike was met with a quick confident block, Tendou's hands looming in front of him. Tendou pulled his hands back and bent them to place at his waist.

“Kenjirou-kun, even Eita-kun could've guessed you'd do that!" Tendou's mouth twisted after a tongue click. "Of course your first toss would go to Kawanishi. You've tossed with him the most. Don't rely on something so easy and predictable, it's not fun to block."

"Stop psychoanalyzing him and get back." Semi grabbed Tendou by the back of his shirt and yanked him. It didn't actually move him, but the gesture was enough to signal him to return.

Shirabu's mouth tightened. He didn't respond to either of them. He waited for a receive off the next serve, and he tossed to a second year, flitting to the first split second decision that came to mind and acting on it. It missed the block from the other team and hit the floor, and Shirabu sighed in relief.

Tendou turned away, his chin and nose up. It gave Shirabu the impression that he didn't give his best for the last block, but Washijou didn't say anything about it or notice it.

Shirabu glanced at Ushijima. He didn't radiate a vibe that impatient spikers did, wordlessly saying something like _toss to me_. Shirabu wasn't pressed to toss to him and use him, so he decided to wait a little longer.

He didn't see a clear moment for a few more serves. Tendou was still in the vanguard on his own side, but he was too far to block Ushijima. He was to the left of the net, and Ushijima was to the right, leaving Tendou unable to switch in time. Shirabu's eyes followed the receive, and he stretched his arms up. He took a moment to hover, glancing and checking to make sure he didn't bump into anyone, but the ball still landed in his hands without letting him completely think it through, and he sent it spinning back into the air towards Ushijima.

The ball reached an awkward spin when it left his hands. He skidded on his feet after the toss, and his eyes whirled to Ushijima with narrowing reluctance.

Ushijima's arm swung in a normal swift path. His hand fit to the volleyball perfectly, but the spin drove its momentum wrong, and it flew into the net instead of above it. The dampened rush of sound from the net absorbing the spike came just before the thud on the gym floor. The ball dribbled a few bounces away after its miserable fall.

Shirabu _heard_ Washijou's disappointed sigh, but Washijou didn't call it out. The reaction sounded expected, somehow; resigned. Shirabu turned to gauge Ushijima's response, but Ushijima wasn't bothered or frustrated. His eyebrows only momentarily came together, his eyes flickering and fixing somewhere else.

"Continue," Washijou ordered, gesturing at them to move on.

Shirabu's shoulders stiffened and steeled as the game continued. Tendou's mouth tightened with stifled laughter, and Semi hit him on the back and coughed him out of his haughtiness. Shirabu heard it from his side of the net, so he knew Semi legitimately hit Tendou hard enough to make him cough and choke back the rest of his laughter. Shirabu's mouth pulled to the side with a snort, but he avoided being as obvious as Tendou was.

After Shirabu made a toss to someone else, he prickled with an intensifying pressure to toss to Ushijima again. It was a knowing and self-inflicted presence in his head, that he didn't want to run away and disappoint him but he didn't want to risk failure. Even though Shirabu didn't embarrass that easily, repeatedly failing was such a bad sign, and Shirabu tried to avoid it as much as possible.

Shirabu breathed deeply and let it slip away. He walked back into place and waited for the next serve. Kawanishi slid under the ball and received it, sending it up in an arch to Shirabu. There was nothing splintering Shirabu’s attention this time, since he checked in advance and saw it was clear, and he tossed the ball without hesitation.

Ushijima leapt, his spike breaking through and connecting with perfect timing. The moment in almost still-frame, slow playing in Shirabu's eyes, lit up with the ceiling lights above. Shirabu followed it over the net as it crashed on the floor, past the blockers and ringing with a satisfyingly loud smack. He took a step away with quietly bright eyes and turned to Ushijima for his reaction.

Ushijima nodded to Shirabu. "You managed to stay calm and still toss again. That's remarkable."

"It is?" Shirabu asked, his head tilting up more to read his face.

Ushijima held eye contact with a serious fire. "Just keep tossing to me, Shirabu, and I'll take care of the rest."

He heard Kawanishi preparing to serve from behind him, shoes squeaking as his hands pressed and found a place to hold onto the ball. In front of him, Tendou stepped and braced for the serve, his attention completely on Kawanishi and unaware or uninterested in Ushijima and Shirabu talking. Shirabu couldn't tell if anyone else was really paying attention to them, even though they were in the middle of the court.

Shirabu nodded to Ushijima and straightened with the rising stream of hot light tightness resolving in his chest, his shoulders bristling with conviction. He didn't experience the drop and twist in his stomach and the red discomfort that would normally accompany something like this, discomfort that somehow felt self-imposed, suspiciously guilty, and Ushijima-centered even if it didn't necessarily embarrass him. Excitement filled him instead, crackling bits of lightning igniting and sparking his drive.

Shirabu tossed to him more, with comfortable frequency, his concentration clearer and detailed with decisions. Tendou came into the vanguard again, and Shirabu tossed to Ushijima to spike against him, ignoring the memories of the last few times he tossed with Tendou blocking.

Tendou's block crumpled under Ushijima's spike. He let his hands drop from the momentum of the ball, and he glared at Shirabu.

"You're annoying when you're serious," Tendou said.

"We're on the same team," Shirabu pointed out.

"Not right now, we're not."

Shirabu slid his eyes away and returned to the game. It was intended to be a short practice match, and it ended when Shirabu's team won at 15 points. Tendou was even more irritated after losing, and he focused it on Kawanishi, uselessly harassing him for a vague rematch in anything.

Ushijima's hand passed in front of Shirabu’s face, purposefully pressing to get his attention. "Shirabu?"

"What is it?"

Ushijima's head dipped down to address him with his full attention. "Your tosses are getting better."

Shirabu scratched the back of his head. "Thank you."

"I know you have the potential to improve. I'm not concerned that you'll stagnate. You've proven that you're a capable setter." Ushijima paused and glanced at the other players lining up for team practice again. "Shirabu, what do you think I want in a setter?"

Shirabu linked his hands together close to himself in the air, thinking it over with slight wariness to avoid saying something that Ushijima disagreed with. "Ability, obviously. And the will to play," Shirabu said, dodging the urge to trail on each sentence. He didn't want to sound unsure, even if he wasn't actually hesitating.

"It takes dedication and determination to persist as a setter," Ushijima said. "And a sense of strength. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Do you mean stronger tosses?" Shirabu asked. He saw practice gearing up to continue again, and he decided to at least pretend to prepare for the next exercise. He crouched for a volleyball on the floor and spun it slowly in his hands, his fingers running over the seams.

"No. I mean composure. A weak person will give in and quit. A weak setter will panic and lose control." Ushijima's eyes returned to Shirabu. "Would you?"

"No."

Shirabu's hands stilled, squeezing the ball in front of his chest as he felt Ushijima's consideration and resolve intensify, and Ushijima's eyes deepened. If there wasn't a ball in between Shirabu's hands, they would've come together in a loose idle fist.

"I believe you're a calm and trustworthy setter. You won't run away or back down. You won't panic, but that's different from pushing forward. Can you guarantee that no matter what the situation is, you'll keep tossing the ball to me?"

Shirabu glanced up to his face. "Yes."

"I trust your promises. You have a record of keeping them." Ushijima's eyes flicked to the court, watching as receive practice started.

"I hate breaking promises."

Ushijima's head turned with an accepting nod. "We should return to practice now. Come on."

Shirabu walked beside him and joined him on the court, silent as he glanced around and headed to the side to wait for his turn.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu's legs wobbled and shook, and he stumbled to rest his hands on a wall for balance, staggering instead of letting himself sit down. The rest of the team were in similar predicaments, huffing and out of breath from a conditioning run around the Shiratorizawa fields.

Kawanishi rubbed at his back and neck. "I'm really sore…"

"If you stretch and condition, then you won't feel sore," Tendou told him.

"This is conditioning."

Shirabu watched them bicker as he recovered his breath and energy. He wasn't as tired as he had been right at the start of the school year, but he was even less tired than usual right now, still filled with a deeply satisfied lightness in his chest. Ushijima's words echoed in the replays in his head, and it motivated him to work harder, alleviating his fatigue and distracting him from it.

Ushijima walked by, and he stopped in front of Shirabu. "Are you having a good day? You ran more than usual."

"Yeah, I feel better than usual today."

"Don't wear yourself out." Ushijima continued and left, and Shirabu removed his hands from the wall and tapped them together, returning to his thoughts.

He slipped away from the wall and joined a few first years resting in the shadow of the gym building. Hijiori sat with his hand lodged in his hair, clumps sticking out between his fingers.

"I could go for some ice cream. It's getting hot," Hijiori said.

"It's _been_ hot." Shirabu sunk to his knees and unfolded to the floor to sit with them. "Why aren't any of you moving indoors? Where there's A/C?"

"We can't move yet." Akayu's legs flopped to the side. "I'm so tired."

Shirabu gathered his hands in his lap. The sun couldn't directly reach them, but its warmth sapped his strength by its mere existence, heating his skin and insisting on the curtain-drawn sleepiness of his eyes. The force of light managed to liquefy the buildings and fields in the far off summer mirage of daytime, and the reflection of a nearby concrete water fountain sent such a dazzling glare that it couldn't be looked at.

Akayu swallowed. "That water looks delicious..."

"Water doesn't have any flavor," Kawanishi said.

"I think that fountain does. Disgusting," Shirabu added. "It's just cycled over and over. Birds probably bathe in it."

"I'm thirsty, and I ran out of water." Akayu demonstrated by upturning his bottle and opening the cap. His arms slumped. "Water tastes so good when it's nice and cold. If it's good enough for a bird, it's good enough for me."

"It's really bright, too." Shirabu's head tilted down, declining against the light. "I'm glad we only run outside in the morning, when it's too early for it to be hot out."

"Don't talk about running. My legs can hear." Hijiori lifted his hand and dropped it.

"That is the _only_ good thing about getting up in the morning. I hate running when I'm usually asleep," Akayu said.

Shirabu flicked a bug off his leg. "I think the second and third years do that all the time."

"How do you know that?" Hijiori asked.

"I don't _know_ but I know Ushijima runs in the morning. I went with him once."

"You...went..." Kawanishi trailed off.

"There's a reason I only ran with him once."

"You _ran_ with _Ushijima_ ," Akayu said. "Did you die?"

"I got exhausted." Shirabu closed his eyes. "I'm not doing that again."

Everyone lapsed into silence.

"If we don't move soon, we're going to miss lunch," Kawanishi said.

"Ugh. He's right. Fine." Shirabu staggered to his feet, and everyone else followed, trudging to the dining hall set up in a camp building for them.

Almost everyone was already seated, and eating, and all the occupied tables were clumped together at one end of the room. Shirabu accepted a tray of food and sat down in between Kawanishi and a second year.

"Imagine going to a school that sucks? The food would suck, too." Shirabu picked up a few vegetables and took a bite.

"Sure would."

Shirabu fiddled with a carrot between his chopsticks as he let the conversation pass by. Most of the first years remained together at the table, and he vaguely registered Akayu talking to a second year across from him. Between their shoulders, Shirabu caught a glimpse of Ushijima and Semi, Ushijima staying quiet and eating as Semi talked.

He swayed to the side slightly to take a look at their food. Ushijima had several pieces of meat on his plate, more than other people, and with less embellishments -- no breading, nothing fried. Everything looked plain, from rice to vegetables. Semi's plate had tempura shrimp, but Shirabu couldn't see anything else past the shoulders.

Shirabu looked down at Hijiori's plate, and saw nothing but red, spicy-looking curry, and rice. He grimaced.

"That's all you're eating?"

"I eat enough," he said.

"I know, but it's the only thing on your plate."

Hijiori shifted the plate a few centimeters away and continued eating. "You just have fish, rice, vegetables, and some udon."

"But that's a lot of stuff, reasonably," Kawanishi said. " _You_ just have curry and rice. Nothing else."

"Now I'm sorry I brought it up." Shirabu slipped a piece of fish into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

The names of the teams that were having practice matches with Shiratorizawa were published on a list in the gym for the week. Shirabu saw the list, but he skimmed over it and found nothing remarkable or memorable about the teams. One was a college team he didn't know anything about yet, and some of the teams were out of the prefecture. On the last day of the summer training camp week, a team caught his eye: Datekou, the iron wall of Miyagi.

It was also the day of the training camp that Washijou decided would be Shirabu's time to set for Shiratorizawa in a practice match.

Shirabu stretched beside Kawanishi and Semi, glancing at Datekou on their side of the gym. He couldn't recognize any of them, none of them caught his attention on the level that the Shiratorizawa players did in middle school, but he did notice a tall walking pillar among them.

Ushijima met Datekou's captain in between the teams, shaking his hand and greeting him with the customary sportsmanship he showed every captain that week. Datekou's captain gave him a genuine smile and briefly covered his hand over Ushijima's to lengthen the handshake.

Ushijima returned to the Shiratorizawa side, and Shirabu approached him. "Why was he so friendly?"

"I don't know, but his name is Moniwa Kaname. He became captain recently, as well."

"Like you, huh…" Shirabu sighed. "We can handle them."

Shirabu accompanied him onto the court and waited for the players on both teams to assemble in lines. Washijou said something to Datekou's coach that Shirabu couldn't hear, and some of the players mumbled to each other while eyeing the people opposite them.

In front of Shirabu was a brown haired player, slightly taller than him and standing next to the intimidating player he first saw in the gym. They were whispering to each other in a one-sided conversation, and their vice captain elbowed one of them sharply and snapped at a Futakuchi to show respect and stop talking.

Shirabu's eyes drifted away. He moved on to skimming the rest of the team, and after a salutatory bow, the teams split apart to take the court and prepare for the match.

"Good luck, Kenjirou," Tendou said in passing, and it happened so quickly that Shirabu couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not. He saw Semi on the sideline fidgeting and clasping his hand on his elbow, rigid next to the other sidelined players.

Datekou served first. Shirabu stepped away and let someone else receive it, and he propped his hands and set to Ushijima. The spike tore through the block easily, knocking back the players that were in front.

Datekou's players didn’t react upset about it. Shirabu wanted them to be, but it was business as usual for them as they returned to their places.

Shirabu watched the ball fly back over the net in Shiratorizawa's serve, and Datekou's vice captain leaned to the side to receive it. It carried over to their setter, and the toss continued it in a smooth path to a spiker.

Tendou and Shirabu leapt up to block. Shirabu trusted Tendou's instinct, and he followed as Tendou proactively slid and jumped into a block with his arms raised. They were both in front of him, neither of them completely aligned with him, but staring him down in a suspended moment in the air brought back the small memory from earlier, and Shirabu recognized him as Futakuchi.

Directly blocking Futakuchi left him grimacing. He glanced between Tendou and Shirabu, his eyes briefly narrowing at the bigger threat.

"Haven't you ever been blocked by a monster before?" Tendou asked.

“We’ve played them before, so I’m pretty sure he has,” Reon said.

Futakuchi pulled back for Shiratorizawa's serve again. Shirabu brushed it off as well, but Tendou leaned in to Reon and mumbled disgruntlement.

Shirabu saw Datekou's retaliation coming after their receive, as their setter tossed to a spiker again. Shirabu stepped ahead with Tendou and their third blocker to overwhelm the towering spiker facing them, but as his feet left the ground, he realized his angle and momentum were off. He bumped against Tendou, and their arms wobbled and missed.

Tendou turned to Shirabu. "Kenjirou, I can't guess block if someone interferes."

"It was a one time accident. We'll still win."

"Hn. Don't get cocky and slack off." Tendou stopped talking as the next serve came.

Reon received it that time, and Shirabu stayed in place as it arched up to him, its delivery clean and accurate enough to require nothing from him but motionlessness. He noticed Tendou eager and ready, and he set to him, letting Kawanishi jump next to Tendou as decoy.

Tendou's arm held a wild energy in his spike, his eyes gloating before he even finished. The ball flew in and landed in a slam that rung victoriously to Tendou, and he spread his arms in the air, deaf to the dead reaction as everyone moved on.

The game continued with points gradually building on both sides, and with Shiratorizawa ahead. Shirabu felt immensely satisfied with the point difference, his composure still intact but his chest lighter and burning through his lungs. His mouth kept stiff and pressed together to hold himself in, but his eyes were bright and alive. This was almost the first real match with Shiratorizawa on the court, and they were clearly going to win the first set. Shiratorizawa was a winning team.

Shirabu caught another receive from Yamagata and sent it back into the air, tossing to Ushijima with immediate action. Tossing to Ushijima was natural now, for once, it felt easy and effortless, the imagined timing in his head shifting and fitting before he tossed. He almost mistook the ease for a mistake in his attention, or a stutter in his wrist. He swore he mistook something in the middle of the toss when he saw Ushijima in the air, his legs bent and floating, his arms pulled and aiming, kindled crisp and accurate like an arrow. The ceiling lights eclipsed around his head and lit like victory in his jump, and his spike tore down past the block, crushing the ball in on itself as it hit the floor and rebounded.

It had the same reaction as before, and Shirabu was disappointed; it was _perfect_. It was his best toss, and it showed with an ace like Ushijima. Shirabu sighed, and his disappointment only surfaced in his slight frown.

Shirabu pushed on through more tosses, and Shiratorizawa won the first set. Pride inflated his chest, but he didn't lord it over the whole court like Tendou, whose head tilted up with a grin with a hand triumphantly inducted into the air.

Tendou lowered his hands to Kawanishi. "C'mon, Taichi."

"No."

Tendou jostled his arms and shook them, and Kawanishi sighed a forceful breath, lifting his hands and awkwardly bumping his hands on Tendou's.

Shiratorizawa started the next set with a serve. Datekou received it and returned it, and the next few points seesawed, the ball powering back and forth with blocks and falls in between. Shirabu fell into the rhythm of the game, and he was so engrossed in thinking through motions that he received a ball on instinct, disqualifying him from setting for the next ball.

Reon received it next, and he directed it above the net, high enough for Tendou to spike in an unofficial toss. He couldn't make it in time to dodge the blockers, and it was successfully blocked and shut down by the eyebrow-less blocker.

Tendou's head fell back a little to suspiciously eye them. He still did as the next serve came from Datekou, and he spread his hands out and jerked his head to Shirabu.

"Toss to me, Kenjirou."

Shirabu wanted to toss to someone else after Tendou said that out loud for Datekou to hear, and he almost did. But he didn't want to interrupt his mood, and he didn't want to take the easy way out. He gave in and sent the toss to Tendou, passing on the responsibility of the point and watching as Tendou slammed down a spike.

Tendou cupped his hands over his mouth and wordlessly yelled, and Shirabu's shoulders rose, belatedly remembering why he should've tossed to someone else. He flexed his hands and loosened them to keep them in warm and working condition for the rest of the set, ignoring Tendou's goading and yelling.

At the end of the set, Shiratorizawa won again. It was a slightly larger point difference than last time, but it still wasn't a landslide. Datekou didn't crumble under the power and pressure like other schools did, and Shirabu had to admit that their blocks were better than other schools.

Shirabu walked up to Moniwa and dodged a few players on the way. He stopped in front of Moniwa and a middle blocker, interrupting their conversation and drawing their attention.

"You're Shiratorizawa's setter! I'm Moniwa Kaname." Moniwa extended his hand with a smile, and Shirabu shook it tentatively, his hand barely moving or touching him.

"I'm Shirabu Kenjirou. And I'm not the setter. I only set for this match."

"Well, you still did great."

Shirabu's nose wrinkled. Moniwa had been friendly to Ushijima too, and he didn't seem to have any regrets about the match. His hands loosely fidgeted with each other, and he pulled on his fingers as he held eye contact with Shirabu.

"Thanks," Shirabu said.

"All of Datekou's third years left the team to prepare for university. What about yours?"

"A few stayed." Shirabu's eyes flitted up to the player standing next to Moniwa.

"Aone, why don't you introduce yourself?" Moniwa bumped his arm into Aone's.

Aone reached his hand out silently, and Shirabu returned the gesture, both of their hands too stiff to really touch.

"Aone Takanobu's the heart of the iron wall."

"I can tell." Shirabu returned to Moniwa, dredging up his purpose for approaching Moniwa. "You seemed friendly with Ushijima."

"Oh, he reminds me a little of Aone. It's easy talking with people like him." Moniwa patted Aone on the shoulder.

Shirabu's hands swung down to his sides. “Oh."

Futakuchi appeared next to Aone. "What are you two doing? Oh." Futakuchi's eyes found Shirabu.

Futakuchi was only slightly taller now that Shirabu could see when they were both motionless, but it rubbed at Shirabu a little. Almost everyone was taller than him somehow, and he could never escape it.

"Shirabu, this is Futakuchi Kenji," Moniwa said.

"Are you new on your team or something? You looked lost in a toss to your teammates earlier."

"Futakuchi, you're a first year, too!" Moniwa pushed at Futakuchi's shoulder. "We should start packing up. We're leaving soon."

"Fine." Futakuchi turned to Shirabu. "Bye, Shirasu."

"My name's Shirabu," Shirabu corrected, but Futakuchi didn't acknowledge it. Aone gave a farewell glance at Shirabu, and Moniwa waved cheerfully.

Shirabu moved to help gather volleyballs and clean the gym. Tendou had been talking to Datekou's vice captain, and as he pulled away, the vice captain had a weary grimace.

"Don't bother them again, Tendou," Semi said.

"I just wanted to talk. It's fun." Tendou's eyes fixed on Kawanishi stepping out of the supply closet, a mop in hand. He left to join him, and Shirabu continued on with the volleyballs in his arms.

Shirabu stopped and leaned against the wall outside, resting and watching the other Shiratorizawa players walk out of the gym. Tendou repeated his pose from earlier and stood on the concrete with his arms in the air.

A flock of pigeons swarmed behind him, and they flew close above his head, flurrying in a feathery storm of grey bodies. Tendou's hands dropped and covered his ducked head in sudden shock.

Semi and Kawanishi burst out laughing. Shirabu hid his snorting under his hand, his head turned to the side and mouth tight.

Tendou raised his arms again, his eyes searching the sky. "Wait, come back! I summon you back!"

"You're supposed to use seed to attract pigeons," Kawanishi said, his voice still a bit breathless from laughter.

"Not if you want to summon them," Tendou explained.

Semi's mouth opened, but he closed it and worked his mouth to the side. Kawanishi brushed his hand over his hair and recovered his breathing.

Tendou gestured over to Semi. "We should get going."

"Finally." Semi hitched his sports bag up higher on his shoulder.

Ushijima walked out of the gym, and he paused when he came to them. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"Right," Kawanishi said.

"No problem, Wakatoshi!" Tendou clapped him on the shoulder.

Shirabu drifted behind them as they walked back to the dorms, staring at his hands and loosely pressing them together at his fingertips to cool them down. They were starting to ache after the full length practice match embedded into a long hard day, and from a week long concentrated training camp.

Ushijima slowed beside him when they stopped in front of the dorms, his head dipping to lower his eyes to Shirabu. The others continued into the building. "Is something wrong?"

"No. My hands are just sore."

“You should try massaging your hands."

Shirabu held his wrist in his hand, and tested it back and forth. “Maybe."

Ushijima stared at the hand. His mouth twitched, but he didn’t say anything more, and Shirabu sighed and walked inside.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu slipped his jacket on and ran downstairs, his umbrella gripped with both hands as he fumbled to open it at the door.

The clouds weren't pouring yet, but the humidity and heat combined, carrying a sticky disgusting mess in the air. Shirabu already couldn't stand the heat, and now he was sweating just from walking outside, his umbrella unfurled above his head and shielding him from the pattering drizzle.

He stumbled into the locker room, his shoulders relaxing at the blast of a cool air conditioned breeze, and he rattled his umbrella to flick off the water. Droplets hit Semi and Tendou next to him, and they both shot their hands up to protect themselves.

"Can't you do that outside?" Semi asked.

"That's where it's raining." Shirabu held his umbrella away from himself, letting it hang limply from his hand as he carefully stepped to his locker, avoiding tiles on the floor that shined with rainwater. He eyed the lockers, and he jumped and raised his umbrella up, pointing it to the ceiling to throw it on top of the lockers.

Ushijima stopped beside him and lifted it. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks." Shirabu bent his leg and yanked his shoes off. He dropped them on the floor and twisted his locker open to fish out his gym shoes.

Shirabu cooled off by the time he went to the gym. He stretched to his feet on the floor with his legs straightened together. He lifted his head to bend his leg back, and he found Ushijima looking at him, his arms curled to stretch.

"Ushijima?" Shirabu asked.

"Yes?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Oh. I apologize." Ushijima shifted away.

Shirabu's mouth opened, and his head tilted, but he didn't say anything. He finished stretching and stood up, dusting off his legs and shaking his hands to loosen them.

"Do you want to practice tossing?" Ushijima asked him.

"For a few minutes." Shirabu picked up a volleyball from the cart as they passed by, and he dribbled it for good measure. He shuffled onto the court and stopped to wait for Ushijima.

"Watch outtttt!"

Ushijima hurried forward in front of Shirabu and raised his arms, his hands stopping and killing a stray volleyball in the air, forcing it to drop.

Tendou walked up to them, his arm bent behind his head with a grin. “Eita's trying too hard with his serves."

Semi ran behind him, and he braked and huffed. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Shirabu said. He leaned forward to see around Ushijima, his eyes locking onto Semi. "Were you aiming for me?"

"No," Semi snapped. He rubbed his hand at his neck, his eyes flickering sheepishly.

"Never mind Eita. Wakatoshi, did you just block his serve from over there?" Tendou asked.

"I don't know if that's what you'd call it..."

"I'll call it that. It's your signature attack," Tendou said. He raised a hand in the air, his fingers spreading as he lifted his foot behind him.

Shirabu stepped around Ushijima. "He can't do that on the court."

"It's not for the court."

Shirabu's eyelids lowered, lackluster and uninterested. "We're going back to tossing."

"I'll join. I don't want to try receiving Eita's serves now," Tendou said. He took a step, and Semi grabbed the back of his shirt, halting him and making him scrabble with Semi's hands.

"I'm with you, Shirabu," Ushijima said. He followed, and they returned to tossing and spiking, ignoring Semi and Tendou squabbling on the side.

"Are your hands better?" Ushijima asked after a spike.

Shirabu crouched for the ball and got up. His hands settled on the ball and his arms folded out, elbows to the side. "There's nothing to be worried about."

"I hope so."

Ushijima bent his legs to signal readiness, and Shirabu tossed. They resumed practicing for a couple more minutes until Washijou ordered everyone into laps and drills for the start of team practice.

The rain outside stirred into a louder storm, howling lowly outside as the wind whipped around the building and thumped tree branches. Shirabu could hear it at a faint level, but he could see it more than he could hear it. The sky darkened from the clouds, visible through the windows near the ceiling. The experience of the storm in the safety of the air-conditioned gym imparted a quietness, even with the squeaks of shoes and rushes of running and yelling, blended with the fluted sighing wind cracked with thunder.

Exercise from practice made Shirabu sweat, but he didn't feel sweaty until he changed after practice and charged outside with his umbrella, determined to hurry and avoid being in the summer storm for too long. Everyone left the gym and headed to class with him, with Kawanishi beside him under his own umbrella.

"This is disgusting," Kawanishi said.

"I'm miserable, too."

They stepped into their class building, and Shirabu paused in the hallway to wipe sweat from his forehead and neck, grimacing and shrinking in his shoulders in disgust. The humidity stuck to his skin and drew out the worst of his sweating. "I hate summer."

"This weather is disgusting," Kawanishi repeated.

Shirabu and Kawanishi shook their umbrellas in attempts at drying them, and they opened their school lockers to dump their umbrellas and shoes.

Kawanishi leaned in to whisper. "Did you see Ushijima on the way here?"

"No. Why?"

Kawanishi shrugged. "He was looking at you walk by."

Shirabu closed his locker. "Oh."

"Don't you want to hear anything else?"

"I don't know what you want me to do. It already happened.” Shirabu rubbed at his warm neck, but he kept his mouth neutral and calm.

"I think it was the sweat. I can still see it on you."

"Stop talking, Kawanishi." Shirabu shuffled away, and Kawanishi ambled next to him, still talking by changing the subject to homework.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu's phone alarm startled him awake in the morning, and he fumbled through his grogginess and rolled over. His throat choked on a cough, his nose sniffling slightly for a breath, and he struggled to sit up in his sleep-strangled bleariness.

He gave a tired moan. He felt a vague body ache, and tomorrow, he knew sickness would set in.

Shirabu dragged himself to morning practice, yawning and trudging through a walk with his umbrella. Rain didn't pelt down anymore, and the storm wind blew less than yesterday. The thick humid air still clung to him, disgruntling him in his already miserable suffering.

He changed and treaded to the gym, his feet heavy and his hands brushing over his hair.

"You don't look healthy," Ushijima said as he watched Shirabu spin a volleyball in his hand, preparing for a toss approach.

"I think I caught a cold. It started this morning."

Ushijima lowered his arms. "Should you be practicing, then?"

"Tomorrow, I won't."

Ushijima's eyes flicked over him, but he didn't ask about it again. He continued spiking Shirabu's tosses, his eyes on Shirabu and his dulled movements.

Shirabu's arms slumped. "I'll stop here for now."

"Rest after today, at least."

"I already said I'm going to."

"You're serves haven't been that compromised from your cold,” Ushijima said.

"It just started this morning." Shirabu rubbed over his forehead. "I'm not coughing yet."

"Don't push yourself." Ushijima stepped back, and he walked to the side of the gym and picked up a water bottle. He returned to Shirabu and handed it to him. "Have you had water yet? You should stay hydrated."

Shirabu accepted it and gulped down, gasping after he drank. He realized that Ushijima had to have noticed and remembered which bottle belonged to him, but he didn't linger on that thought.

He slogged through practice, coasting by on the minimum effort required without prompting a lecture from Washijou. He repeated the process throughout the day, and by the time school ended, his nose was stuffy and his throat ached and itched, scratchy with thirst.

He gave in and went straight home, skipping after school practice to slink into bed. Shirabu sent a text message to Ushijima and Kawanishi, showered, and changed into pajamas, resigning himself to studying in bed.

Shirabu's legs sprawled out, and he tugged a thin sheet over himself. The air conditioned room kept the temperature too low for him to sweat, and now he felt a little cold, warranting sheets and pillows instead of getting up to lower the controls.

He spread his books on his bed and balanced one in his lap, his notebook next to him and a couple pencils tucked into another book. He propped a pillow behind himself to sit up and work. The dim storm outside lulled him into an attentive trance.

Someone knocked on the door lightly enough that Shirabu didn't hear it. The door clicked open, and he startled from the sudden noise.

"Practice ended. How are you feeling?" Ushijima asked.

Shirabu breathed out, smoothing his hand over his chest. "You gave me a heart attack," Shirabu said, his stuffy nose muffling his voice.

Ushijima walked in and closed the door behind himself, stepping closer and stopping beside Shirabu's bed. "A heart attack?" he asked, his eyes widening with serious concern.

"No. I... I'm just sick."

"Oh. Well, do you need anything?"

Shirabu gestured around his bed. "No, I don't."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"I had soup. Ushijima, I'm fine." Shirabu waved at him. "You should go. You probably have things to do."

Ushijima's mouth tightened to the side, his lips shifting a little as he licked them, his eyes deepening in thought. "I'll make Kawanishi bring you homework and notes."

"You don't have to do that."

"You shouldn't fall behind because you're sick," Ushijima said.

"I won't. What do you think I'm doing?" Shirabu held his hand out after a second. "Don't answer that."

Ushijima glanced over Shirabu's bed. "Are you cold?"

"No."

Ushijima approached the thermostat and raised it. "Is this better?"

"...Yes. That's all I need. Really." His legs shifted under the sheet, moving to readjust them and cross them until his cold foot pressed against his warm thigh. He was still in pajama shorts, and his legs were only clothed to part of his thigh. He liked the sensation of something mildly cold on his warm skin, or warmth on his cold skin, and he decided not to change out of them.

Ushijima's shoulders relaxed. "Alright. I'll leave you, then." He left and closed the door carefully, and Shirabu returned to studying in peace.

He stretched and shifted again, restless from sitting still for too long. With his dull and achy legs in his cold-ache, and his books already settled into their ideal places, though, he didn't stand up. He rubbed his hand behind his neck and rolled his neck, working out a creak and stiff joint.

Ushijima returned an hour later, nudging the door open with his foot. He carried a steaming mug into the room, wordlessly placing it on the nightstand next to Shirabu's bed.

"Why did you come back?"

"I brought you tea,” Ushijima said.

"I don't need any."

"It'll help you feel better."

Shirabu sucked in a breath and reached for it to appease him. He sipped at the edge, tilting the mug up at glacial-speed increments. He still scalded his tongue, and he flinched.

"Be careful," Ushijima said.

Shirabu grimaced and blew on the surface to cool it. He lowered his hands to hold it closer, absorbing the heat through the thin pillow over his chest.

"What kind of tea is this?"

“Jasmine."

Shirabu's eyes flicked up. “Jasmine...?"

"Should I have asked first?"

"No, this is fine." Shirabu tried to sip again, and he breathed out slow warm air after the gulp. The tea tasted strong, but it was pleasant. He wondered if it was Ushijima's favorite tea, or if he thought it could be Shirabu's favorite, or if he just had it lying around.

Ushijima held a steady gaze. "You look terrible."

Shirabu stopped drinking. "What?" he asked flatly.

"You look tired, and you usually don't." Ushijima's head tilted down, his eyes softening. "I'll leave you alone to rest. You shouldn't study too much tonight."

"I'll study as much as I need to."

Ushijima frowned, but he didn't push any further. He headed to the door and threw one last look at Shirabu before closing it.

Shirabu stared into his mug. He drank most of the tea, and now the liquid pooled in the bottom of the mug at room temperature, the steam gone. He didn't want to drink the rest of it.

He set the mug on the nightstand and returned to homework. He gave up after another half hour, and he closed his books and gathered them into a pile on the floor. He shuffled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash water into his face, and he blinked at the mirror.

He took a shower earlier, but his hair already lost its clean softness. Something inherent in his sickness and fatigue made his hair stick up and out, messy like he was rolling around in bed. His shirt wrinkled up above his shorts, and he tugged it back down and went back to his room to sleep. He turned off the light and curled under his sheet, listening to the dying rain fall onto the ground outside his window.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu sat in his bed, avoiding Ushijima's eyes and pretending to be bored. He shifted under his sheet and rubbed his legs and feet together to alternate the cold and heat on his skin.

"I brought more tea."

"Thanks," Shirabu said, his stuffed nose and scratchy throat strangling his voice.

Ushijima put it down on his nightstand. "Do you need anything else?"

"No." Shirabu sniffled.

Ushijima nudged his tissue box to the edge of the night stand, closer to Shirabu's side. "Here."

Shirabu sighed and brought it into his lap. "I can take care of myself."

"I know." Ushijima placed a water bottle on the nightstand.

Shirabu eyed Ushijima, took the hint, and uncapped the bottle for a drink. He swallowed and set it down. "You can go, you know. And Kawanishi already dropped off my homework. You don't have to worry."

Ushijima leaned back in a step. "If you say so."

Shirabu rubbed at the front of his throat. "Why do you keep checking on me?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Concern. You're a setter on the team, and you should be in great care."

Shirabu felt too groggy and cloudy to respond. He fiddled with the sheet, his eyes drooping with a yawn.

"Go to sleep, Shirabu," Ushijima said. His eyes crinkled, mirroring the softness of Shirabu's sleepy eyes, and he quietly left and locked the door.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu hunkered down in his bed and picked up a bowl from his nightstand. His favorite comfort food for colds was instant cup noodles, but he made the mistake of telling Ushijima, and Ushijima immediately expressed disapproval. Instead of returning with tea, he brought Shirabu fresh ramen. He sat down on Shirabu’s desk chair.

Shirabu paused from slurping and lowered his chopsticks. The almost-scalding heat burned away the ache and scratchiness in his throat, and his head cleared. He could take in everything now, including Ushijima's hands resting in his lap, his eyes intent on Shirabu's hands and face while he ate.

"I'll eat, you don't have to make sure I will,” Shirabu said.

"That's not why I..." Ushijima trailed off, his eyes clouding in confusion.

Shirabu took another sip, and he swallowed. "Thanks for the ramen."

"You're welcome."

Shirabu's eyes fell back to his ramen. "I'll feel better soon," he said to fill the silence.

"I hope so. You've already been sick for days." Ushijima's head turned to scour the room. "I have to leave now. Take your medicine, and I wish you well." He nodded and left.

Shirabu drank the last drop, placed the bowl on his nightstand, and slumped in bed. His eyes moved to distantly look in the cloudy sky of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hilarious that furudate canonized the dorm stuff so now it's not even an hc anymore.
> 
> I found out which real world school Shiratorizawa is based on, and they sound really similar, so I'm using the school's [map](http://www.tohoku.ed.jp/campus/izumi.html) now (can't really read the words though).


	6. Chapter 6

Shirabu wiped sweat off his forehead. His hand drifted and lingered to rub his eyes.

"Feeling better?" Kawanishi asked.

"I do. I just have a small headache." Shirabu carded his hand through his hair and rested it on his head. He then removed it, letting it drop to his side. "Thanks for bringing me homework the past few days."

"I don't think Ushijima would let me say no if I wanted to refuse."

"I know. I noticed he's been pushier while I'm sick.”

Kawanishi's eyebrow rose. "At least you aren't sick anymore. And no one else caught the cold.”

The two of them headed into the locker room, exhausted after practice and cleaning the gym. Some of the others were already in the locker room, and they had to duck around people and open lockers to find their own. Shirabu followed behind Kawanishi and left the crowd navigation to him.

Shirabu walked to his locker and tugged his shirt off, lifting it over his head and feeling the rush of cool air sweep over his back and stomach.

"How are you feeling, Shirabu?" Ushijima asked beside him.

Shirabu turned to answer, and his throat closed with a small quiet swallow. Ushijima was shirtless. His chest and stomach moved as he bent to pull on shorts, his muscles tensing and the curve of his stomach flexing. Ushijima reached for a towel and wiped his chest and neck with it, and Shirabu's eyes followed, fitting detail to his skin and passively watching, forgetting to memorize or at least pay attention.

"Shirabu?" Ushijima asked again.

"Fine, I'm fine," Shirabu mumbled, his eyes flitting elsewhere.

"Are you sure? You look warm. Do you have a fever?"

"No." Shirabu rubbed his hand over his face. He couldn't see, but he felt warmth pulse into his fingers, and it was enough to tell him that he was red. "We just had practice. Of course I'm warm. You are, too."

Ushijima's eyes remained on him with an unconvinced edge, but he didn't act on it. He returned to his locker. He pushed his volleyball shoes inside and paused to scratch at his chest. Shirabu couldn't tear away, but he continued changing and glancing at him, his eyes filling with Ushijima's bare chest muscle.

Shirabu brought himself back and closed his locker. He headed out beside Kawanishi, and the both of them walked in silence.

"Spring high is a long way away," Kawanishi said.

Shirabu gave a grunt in response.

"At least the weather is better."

"That was probably why I got sick," Shirabu said.

"No one else did."

"I _heard_." Shirabu looked ahead towards the library, and he slowed, drawing Kawanishi in to mimic him until they stopped. "I'm going to stay in my room and study. You can go by yourself."

"Alright," Kawanishi said hesitantly. "But if Tendou is there, then I'm leaving. Or Semi."

Shirabu didn't think he meant it, but he had no way to tell. He left Kawanishi alone and walked into the dorm building, set on having a lazy night.

He repeated the same arrangement he had when he was sick, spreading books on his bed with pencils, pens, and notebooks. An hour into studying and doing homework, the door opened. Ushijima's head poked in.

"I need to start locking the door," Shirabu muttered.

"Kawanishi told me you didn't want to come to the library. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Ushijima asked.

"I'm staying here because I want to." Shirabu slouched against the headboard of his bed and crossed his arms.

Ushijima stepped in and nudged the door closed. He glanced at Shirabu's hand. "What are those marks from?"

"From my pen." Shirabu brought his fingers to his arm where the black marks dotted his skin. "I'm a sloppy writer."

Ushijima leaned closer, craning his head to see the paper. "Your writing isn't sloppy. It's neat and clean."

"I tap my pen on my arm a lot. That's what I meant." Shirabu picked his up to demonstrate. "It's just ink," he said.

"I can tell you're not sick with another cold," Ushijima said. "You look better. Much better."

Shirabu's hands stilled on his book. "If you know already, then...can you please leave me alone to do homework?"

"Yeah, I'll leave you to it, then. Sorry for interrupting you." Ushijima stepped out, and Shirabu sighed into the silence of the room. He still didn't want to lock the door.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't unheard of for students to be in the locker room outside of practice or volleyball time. There were normal school lockers in the classroom buildings, too, and they were kept cleaner than the sports associated ones, but things still ended up misplaced in the gym lockers, or just kept there for various reasons.

Shirabu dragged himself to the lockers. Earlier he noticed a piece of his phone had fallen off, part of the slot where he plugged in his charger, and he hated the thought of dirt getting in. He went to the gym as a last resort before giving up.

Hijiori and Akayu's voices echoed inside. Shirabu opened the door and leaned against the threshold to watch, propping the door open and wide.

"Is it this one?"

"I can't remember. I think it's that one."

"If you don't remember, why suggest it?"

"Whose locker are you looking for?" Shirabu asked.

Akayu and Hijiori flinched against the lockers. The metal doors creaked and clanged from their hinges and locks.

"We're not _looking_ for someone's locker in particular," Hijiori said.

Akayu brushed his hand over his hair and rested it against his forehead, with the care of a headache's aftermath.

"I _heard_ you talking about looking for a locker."

" _A_ locker," Hijiori amended.

"What."

"I accidentally opened a locker a few days ago, and I want to see which one it was."

"Accidentally? They all have combination locks."

"I played around with a lock, and it opened." Hijiori faced the lockers and turned one of the locks, slowly and carefully, inching it along until he reached a number.

Shirabu stared at him. His sympathy for Akayu multiplied.

"That was just a stroke of luck," Akayu said. He shoved in and tried pushing him away with shoulder power.

"I was almost done!" Hijiori complained.

"This is borderline criminal," Shirabu commented as he watched. "Don't you think?"

Hijiori managed to knock Akayu away. "Criminals listen to the clicks in locks, I think."

"I really didn't ask for that."

Akayu crowded around Hijiori, but Hijiori stopped struggling. Akayu fell off.

"Which one's your locker, Shirabu?" Hijiori asked.

"Why?"

Akayu walked along the lockers and paused. "It's this one."

"Wait, what? Get away from it." Shirabu rested his hand on the wall of lockers.

Hijiori replaced Akayu and turned the lock. After a few moments, the locker clinked and opened. Hijiori swung it free.

Shirabu's arm fell. "What the hell."

"Did you leave it unlocked?" Akayu asked.

" _No_." Shirabu stomped over and slammed his locker closed. "Don't go around guessing everyone's locker combinations."

"I'd rather believe that you left it open."

Hijiori wilted. "Why can't you believe I'm psychic?"

"You're not," Shirabu said.

"You're just incredibly lucky." Akayu groaned. "Have you ever even thought about it? Everything you've ever 'guessed' has a vaguely statistical probability of being right, like guessing numbers."

Shirabu glanced at Akayu. "I thought he was just trying to be a little like Tendou, but when you put it that way, that actually sounds... _smart_."

Hijiori perked. He turned to the lockers again. "Should I try another?"

"Just leave," Shirabu said.

Hijiori ignored him and worked on another locker.

Akayu leaned forward. "Whose is that?"

"That's _Ushijima's_." Shirabu didn't move, but his glaring eyes convinced Hijiori to step away, with his hands frozen and shoulders up halfway to his ears.

"What about Tendou's? Where's his?" Akayu asked.

Shirabu sighed with his eyes closed. He opened them and pointed at a locker. "That's his. Knock yourself out."

 

* * *

 

Shirabu arrived early to practice. He found himself bored twenty minutes before they even started set up, but he couldn't bring himself to sit still and find something short to do. He walked into the locker room and began slowly changing.

"You don't have to be here this early," Ushijima said.

Shirabu startled in a small jump, barely rising on his toes, but he didn't spin around or fumble. "I have nothing else to do."

"I spend my extra time on volleyball, too."

"That's not what I meant."

Ushijima walked past him and paused to open his locker. He paused again.

"What's this?" Tendou asked. Shirabu listened to them without turning and watching.

"I don't know. I didn't leave it here."

"Hijiori and Akayu," Shirabu muttered. He dragged his hand over his shoulder.

"Someone opened your locker!" Tendou gasped, theatricality removing all sympathy. "And left you candy! What is this, Halloween?"

"Normally that kind of thing means someone likes you," Reon said.

"It means you should change your lock," Semi advised.

"Now that I think about it, it's weird that someone managed to open it. And Wakatoshi never likes leaving things unlocked." Tendou hummed. "Oh well."

"I'm not a fan of chocolate," Ushijima said after they finished. "Shirabu, do you want it?"

Shirabu gathered himself back to attention and faced him. "Huh? Yeah, I'll take it." He held his hand out.

Tendou squawked. "Someone left rocks in my locker!"

A sudden metallic screech made Shirabu flinch and swivel to look. Semi had fallen against the lockers, and he held his stomach as he laughed, loud enough to fill the room.

"Eita, did you do this?!"

"No," he managed to say in a breath.

"Don't lie."

Semi couldn't respond. He turned away to keep laughing.

Shirabu finished changing and slid in to Ushijima's side. "Doesn't it bother you that someone opened your lockers?"

Ushijima slipped his shirt over his head. "I'm sure it was someone else on the team."

"Because it was just chocolate?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that. I assumed no one outside the team would be interested in opening lockers in the first place."

Shirabu looked up at him from the side. "You're way too kind."

 

* * *

 

The bell rang for the last class of the day. Shirabu intended to go to the library today, and he walked with Kawanishi and Akayu after they were dismissed from class. Shiratorizawa's volleyball team didn't have practice after school. Occasionally they had evenings off, and that led them to head to the library early.

On their way out of the classroom building, Shirabu saw Ushijima part from Tendou and turn on a path to a different building. "Where's Ushijima going?" Shirabu asked.

"I don't know. I still haven't seen the entire school," Kawanishi answered.

"You didn't get a tour?"

"I did, but I forgot everything I saw."

Shirabu's eyes flickered to give him a hard bored look. "I'm going to ask him," he said after a pause.

"Skipping the library again?" Akayu asked.

"I will, later." Shirabu waved him off and hurried to catch up to Ushijima in the distance.

He didn't have to rush too far, and he braked and collected his breath again in a few seconds. Ushijima's head turned down to listen, his pace slowing and his eyes brightening.

"Where are you going?" Shirabu asked.

"The school greenhouse. Do you want to join me?"

Shirabu nodded. "I haven't seen it yet."

It wasn't a lie. Shirabu saw the building before, but he never stepped inside.

Ushijima continued on and led them. They passed the music building Shirabu found by accident when he was lost his first day. It remained silent and mostly empty, its windows shining in the sunlight with a clear view inside.

Shirabu glanced around as they approached. "Why are you going to the greenhouse?"

"I wanted to visit. Sometimes I bring Tendou."

Ushijima opened the door, and Shirabu walked in behind him. The building opened into a room encased in glass, heated by warm gentle air trapped inside from the sun. Small trees lined the sides of the room, but none of them towered to the sky, instead stopping short of the glass ceiling. Rows of soil composed the floor and formed paths to walk through, and flowers crowded the soil rows into a sea of waving petals and fronds. The sweet flowery smell wafted up to them.

Shirabu took in a sniff. "This is amazing," he said in a quiet breath. "I can't believe I haven't been here yet."

"Now you have." Ushijima walked down a path. He glanced back expectantly at Shirabu until he came along.

Without the sound of birds chirping, the encased garden remained almost silent. The glass muffled outside noises, and the only real sound Shirabu heard was the low barrage of wind swirling around the building and tapping the walls. Shirabu and Ushijima's footsteps crunched on the concrete walkway that serpentined on the floor, their movements soft and quiet with the wind.

"Do you come here often?" Shirabu asked.

"No." Ushijima's eyes shifted to look around. They fell on a pink azalea, and he crouched to inspect it.

Shirabu linked his hands together and idly cracked them. The flowers lit up the room in a rolling wave of color, but he didn't stand there and watch them all at once. He stared down at the azalea in Ushijima's hand, held between his cupped fingers without cutting it and picking it up.

Shirabu's shoulders settled with a sigh. "I find it hard to imagine Tendou coming here."

"He usually doesn't stay long." Ushijima stood up. "Do you have a favorite plant?"

"I don't know anything about plants." Shirabu scratched the back of his neck and returned his gaze to the flowers floating their petals above the ground. "If I had to pick, I'd pick something pretty."

"A flower, then?"

Shirabu nodded. "I wouldn't pick anything else." Shirabu continued walking, his head moving just under a low clump of blossoming tree branches. His hair brushed past a branch, and a few stray petals caught on his hair. He smoothed his hand over his hair to comb anything out that stuck to him.

"There's still some in your hair," Ushijima said, and he stepped closer, sweeping his hand over Shirabu's hair and plucking them out.

Shirabu couldn't tell how many there were, but the repetitive motion continued and segued into tucking his hair to the side. Shirabu felt something soft and velvety push into his hair, and he realized it was a petal.

"Flowers complement your hair well." Ushijima skimmed his fingers one last time over a few strands of Shirabu's hair before returning his hand to his side.

"They do?" Shirabu moved his hand over his head, lightly pushing at the strands of his bangs and maneuvering his hand to shield his eyes.

"I think something red or purple would complement your hair better." Ushijima glanced to find another flower.

Shirabu's hand fell. "I don't need that. This is...fine." Shirabu's hands tapped together. Ushijima remained unmoved.

He watched Ushijima and waited for him to move, to look away and focus on something else. Shirabu felt hot under the greenhouse filtered sun and Ushijima's steady gaze, and he busied himself with trying to tuck his bangs again, contemplating pulling out the petals.

"What kind of tree is this?" he asked, turning to stare at the white flowering clouds of fragrant trees around them, the source of the ones in his hair.

"Magnolia. They can sometimes be short trees, but I don't understand why they're this short."

"At least they fit in here," Shirabu said.

Ushijima's head tilted down, his eyes on Shirabu's head. "Magnolia trees normally take 10 years to fully grow before they can begin to bloom. It takes a long time, and many people hate the wait, but I think it's worth it."

Shirabu's eyes averted, and they landed on a bunch of fallen flowers and petals on the ground, underneath a cluster of intact flowers. He bent and picked them up, gathering them in his hands in a pile of dark red petals. He pinched a petal with his finger and felt the soft and smooth texture.

"These are colorful," Shirabu said, his voice smoothing into a relieved tone from finding another topic. The room was light and quiet, but the air was starting to fill with a heavier silence, and Shirabu wanted to push it away with noise.

Ushijima frowned. "The entire flower has been pulled off. Someone intentionally damaged it."

"It shouldn't be wasted, then." Shirabu rose on his feet, balancing on his toes and reaching up with the flowers, lifting one as high as he could. He waved it. "I'm trying to put this on your head, Ushijima-san."

Ushijima's eyes blinked wider. "A carnation?"

"Is that what it is?" Shirabu glanced between Ushijima and the flower, and he lowered himself to his normal height. "It caught my eye."

Ushijima's eyes slid side to side. "You're giving it to me?"

"I found it on the floor," Shirabu said casually, ignoring his own nervous heart beat. Shirabu gestured at Ushijima's head. "You're too tall. Can you bend down?"

Ushijima's bent his head, bowing to Shirabu's height and stilling. Shirabu fumbled to tuck the flower in, spilling a few petals as he struggled with lodging it in place. He gave up and dumped most of the flowers and petals he found and dedicated both hands to Ushijima's hair. His hands shook a little when they brushed Ushijima's hair, but he continued and pressed his hand in, letting it sink and feel his hair.

Shirabu removed his hands and dusted them on his shorts. "There. I'm done."

Ushijima stood up. "Thank you, Shirabu."

Shirabu's eyes narrowed at the notch in his voice, a barely audible waver. He swore he saw Ushijima's face fluster with another color, but he didn't know if he was reading something into the light or if he saw the color of the carnation bleed through his vision, or something completely different.

"I think we've spent enough time here," Ushijima said quietly. He turned his head to the door. He brushed his hand over his hair, messing it up a little and folding back hair beside the carnation.

Shirabu's lungs filled with the fragrant air, bumping his heart faster and driving his eyes away, and he nodded. "I have things to do."

"I'll escort you out, then." Ushijima led him to the door and opened it, and he stepped aside to let Shirabu out first.

Shirabu's hand reached behind his ear through his hair and gently pulled out the magnolia, drawing it into his palm and loosely closing his hand around it. Shirabu didn't open his hand again until he returned to his room, and he placed it on his desk, clearing the books to the side and leaving the magnolia in the middle of the wide open space.

 

* * *

 

"Ushijima. Ushijima-senpai?" Shirabu bounced the ball on the floor, thumping it hard to get his attention. "Do you want to spike my tosses today?"

Ushijima turned. "Yes, I'd love to."

Shirabu dribbled it again in thought. Ever since their day in the greenhouse garden, Shirabu couldn't stop picturing the carnation in Ushijima's hair, the deep red color sitting in his brown hair and his hand threading it in place, and Ushijima's hand brushing it back. Shirabu's flower still sat on his desk after the past two days, and he avoided studying on his desk completely, resorting to his bed or returning to the library with Kawanishi.

Ushijima spiked his warm-up tosses flawlessly. Shirabu wanted to praise him, but his mouth dried, and he stared at Ushijima instead, waiting for him to speak or move.

Ushijima swiveled to pick up the ball when he noticed Shirabu wasn't going to get it. He threw it to Shirabu and returned to his place in front of the net, and after a few more tosses, Shirabu realized Ushijima wasn't returning eye contact.

Shirabu waved his hand in front of his face. "What's wrong?"

Ushijima's eyes finally shifted to him. "Nothing. Why?"

"You haven't been looking at me today." Shirabu span the volleyball in his hands at a slow speed. "I always thought you were an honest person."

Ushijima's shoulders stiffened. "Shirabu, would you like to go to the mall with me this weekend?"

"How is that related?" Shirabu asked.

"I'm being honest, like you said."

Shirabu's arm bent behind his head, and he felt the stretch in his arm as his hand fell to his neck. "I'll go," he said, while looking at the net.

Ushijima relaxed with a drawn out breath. "I'll take you," he said, and Shirabu's ears burned in acknowledgment.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu waited outside the dorm building and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His hands fidgeted under his arms, and he pinched the bottom hem of his shirt in restless boredom. Ushijima was still changing inside. They returned from practice to shower, change, and drop off their belongings in their rooms after Saturday morning practice.

The door to the dorms opened, and Shirabu swiveled to look.

Ushijima stepped out. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Shirabu uncrossed his arms and stood up from the wall. "I'll follow you. Lead the way."

Ushijima stepped ahead for a few minutes. They drifted beside each other and walked to the train station together, out of Shiratorizawa's campus and onto the sidewalk into town.

"Do you have any dogs?" Shirabu asked. "I remember you petting a dog a few weeks ago on a morning run."

"I have one. A husky named Takeshi."

Shirabu's mouth wavered in restraint to hold back a snort. "I thought you'd name your dog after a plant."

"No. I'd rather give him a name befitting a dog."

"Would you name a dog Shirabu?"

Ushijima's eyebrows furrowed in serious thought. "Wouldn't that be confusing?"

"I was joking," Shirabu said.

"Oh. Shirabu is a nice name, though. So is Kenjirou. It's pleasant to say."

"Thanks." Shirabu scratched the side of his neck, his head tilting away. The weather was cooling by now, but the skin at the back of his neck reversed that effect with the feeling of heat rising and prickling him.

"I can see why Tendou keeps referring to you by your first name."

"I didn't encourage that."

"I know."

Shirabu swallowed down a noise. "I'm glad you don't do it."

"I appreciate that you don't call me Ushiwaka."

"It's not hard to avoid."

They turned a corner onto the street of the mall, and Shirabu sided in beside Ushijima to fit onto the sidewalk.

A rush of cold air met them from the entrance fan, and Shirabu stepped away and relaxed in relief. "It feels much better in here."

"You think so? I think it's cold."

"I'd rather be cold than hot."

"I disagree." Ushijima turned and looked ahead. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah. It's time for lunch." Shirabu walked with him through the mall to the food court, passing by shops and windows of merchandise. It didn't take them long to weave their way there, and Shirabu had already taken his wallet out as the restaurants came into view.

Ushijima held out his hand to stop Shirabu. "I'll pay."

"You don't have to."

"It's not necessary, but I want to." Ushijima slowly pulled out his wallet, and he didn't take his eyes off Shirabu until he pocketed his own.

"Fine." Shirabu sighed. "I'll just take a sandwich."

"Are you sure?"

"...Alright, I'll take something else too."

Ushijima chose a shop to buy from, and they waited in line together. Ushijima stared at a menu board of choices as Shirabu idled next to him. Shirabu stood in place for a few minutes, his weight settling from staying still, and his legs locked.

The line inched ahead. Shirabu moved to step forward with Ushijima, and he stumbled to the side. Shirabu rubbed over his mouth and grumbled.

"I'm fine," he said before Ushijima could react. Ushijima still looked at him.

Ushijima returned to staring at the menu, and Shirabu's head turned down, eyes slightly shielded.

"Have you decided yet?" Shirabu asked.

"I don't know..."

"So, no."

"I'm really hungry."

The training camp came to Shirabu's mind, when Ushijima offered extra food to him, and he accepted and got a stomachache. He couldn't even approach Ushijima's hunger or the amount of food he ate.

"Are you ordering extra?"

"Not more than usual," Ushijima said.

"Not extra to you, then. It's almost superhuman that you can eat so much. It reminds me of those superheroes Tendou rattles on about from mangas."

Shirabu turned, and his eyes met Ushijima's chest and shoulder from his height. They were leaning against a wall, but Ushijima turned slightly in towards him, slanting so they weren't shoulder beside shoulder.

Shirabu looked up to speak. Ushijima's stomach growled, and he shifted to shrink as he wrapped an arm over his stomach.

"I'm...hungry," he said with a sheepish frown.

Shirabu snorted. It came out as a noise between a sneeze and a strangled laugh, and Ushijima watched him and hesitated.

"Bless you...?" Ushijima asked.

"That wasn't a sneeze."

"Oh."

"I have an awful laugh sometimes, I know." Shirabu grumbled.

"I don't think so."

"Nice try, but you don't have to be polite."

The cashier called them up, and the conversation broke to attend and order together. They then stepped aside to wait for their food.

"Is there anything you have to buy at the mall?" Shirabu asked.

"Yes, but... I have to buy it last. You can shop around first."

"I don't have to buy anything."

"You don't need to?" Ushijima asked.

"No," Shirabu said. His eyes slid up to Ushijima's face. "What do you have to buy?"

"It's a surprise."

"For me?"

"I said it's a surprise, Shirabu." Ushijima coughed into his shoulder.

"You invited me. It sounds like it was intentional."

Ushijima fidgeted with his feet, and Shirabu dropped the topic to retrieve their food when Ushijima's name was called. Shirabu led them to an empty table and sat down.

Ushijima ate quietly, taking respectably sized bites and chewing with his head tilted down. Shirabu couldn't help watching him for a few moments instead of talking. He stared at Ushijima's lips as he sipped on his drink.

Ushijima put his drink down. "What's your favorite food, Shirabu?"

Shirabu turned his head to break eye contact. "Fish. Especially whitebait."

"Oh."

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

"I still wouldn't understand," Ushijima said.

Shirabu rested the side of his face into his hand, mumbling wordlessly and rumbling in his throat. "I like all fish food. ...Fish as food, not fish-food." He used his free hand to eat and picked up a large piece of chicken. He stuffed it into his mouth and ended up struggling to chew and swallow.

He flattened his hand on the table after swallowing. "Why didn't you order curry? Isn't that your favorite?"

"We would have to order from two separate places." Ushijima finished his food and leaned his head. "Are you finished?"

Shirabu nudged the last piece into his mouth and nodded. Ushijima collected the trash from the table and tossed it out, and he waited for Shirabu to stand up.

Shirabu stopped at his side. "If we don't really have anything to buy, then there's nothing else to do here."

"You don't want to shop anywhere?"

"No."

Ushijima's hand grazed the side of his head and scratched. "Well..."

Shirabu tried not to show interest, but he glanced at Ushijima repeatedly. He lifted his head to catch glimpses of Ushijima's flickering hesitation, Ushijima's eyebrows creasing and his mouth tightening.

"Come with me, then."

Ushijima guided him down the walkway of shops. They stopped in front of a flower shop, with pots and plants standing in the store window, and signs and prices listed around them. The storefront was painted green in spiraling stem designs, leaves sprouting off of them in different directions on the wall.

"Are you going to buy flowers?"

Ushijima continued walking, silencing him as they entered the shop. A sweet floral scent drifted through the shop, stronger than the garden they visited together, and Shirabu realized that the flowers here were probably chosen for their scent and color instead of just grown.

Ushijima stepped away from Shirabu to browse. He approached a floral case and peered through the glass, his eyes darting and landing on a cluster of white petaled flowers.

Shirabu strolled around by himself. Part of the store was dedicated to cards, chocolates, and other gifts, and he balked at the deeper atmosphere as he walked. The lights shined brightly and calm background music played from the speakers, so dim soft lighting couldn't be blamed, but the atmosphere came from everything else pieced together into the shop. The shelves were dark red, painted in the reflection of the artificial roses and tulips adorning the entrance, and plush animals filled one aisle, their paws stitched to bags of candy.

Shirabu didn't know how to discourage Ushijima from buying anything. He left the candy section in case Ushijima saw him and thought he wanted something else to eat, and he returned to Ushijima's side and looked over flowers with him.

Ushijima spoke with an employee and requested a few of the white flowers he had his eye on. Shirabu silently trailed after them to the cash register, and he watched Ushijima handle the flowers with delicate care. He held them up straight after paying, his arm barely moving as he turned to leave.

"What are the flowers for?" Shirabu asked.

"Let's return to Shiratorizawa for now," Ushijima said. His hold on the flowers remained, and he started walking.

Shirabu's eyebrow rose after being ignored. He followed Ushijima and homed to his side. His hands bumped together near his chest and then fell, closing into loose fists and opening indecisively. His fingers pinched the bottom of his shirt, and he distracted himself with the sensation, moving his fingers in circles and repeating over and over until his fingertips felt too overstimulated to register the fabric.

"You never told me your favorite flower," Shirabu said.

"Camellias. They're beautiful, but they're not very fragrant." Ushijima's fingers tightened around the wrapped flowers.

"It doesn't matter that they're not perfect?"

"Flowers aren't perfect. They wilt and die, Shirabu."

Shirabu sighed and scratched his neck. "That's true."

"But each species has something different to offer. You have to sacrifice some traits for others."

"I think we should stop talking about this. Before you try to explain cross pollination." Shirabu's attention flicked to the stores they passed, watching their reflections slowly glide across the windows and submerge into the clothes and appliances on display. Shirabu walked closer to the windows than Ushijima did, and at this angle, he could see the clear height difference between them. Shirabu's head barely came to Ushijima's chin. He stood higher than Ushijima's neck, but if he turned, his mouth would end up muffled into Ushijima's chest. Or his shoulders, if his head tilted down into them.

After he gazed into the windows for a while, he noticed Ushijima staring into them, too. Ushijima's eyes were focused downward, on Shirabu's head.

Shirabu turned. "What?"

"Nothing." Ushijima's head settled ahead again, and they returned to silence. Ushijima's face carried a crinkled red in his skin, near his eyes and in his cheeks. His nose twitched occasionally, along with his mouth pressing in and together with a small edge of his teeth biting them.

The buildings staggered furthered apart until they faded, and Shiratorizawa came into view. Ushijima stopped walking.

"These flowers are for you, Shirabu," Ushijima said slowly.

Shirabu didn't mention that he realized that earlier. He stayed quiet and nodded.

Ushijima's free hand reached behind his head and rubbed at his neck. "You've already given me a carnation, so I'm returning the favor," Ushijima said, his voice finishing in a small waver. He lowered his hands and tipped the flowers forward. "They're white roses."

"Roses?" Shirabu asked as he received them.

Shirabu raised the roses to sniff. The light floral fragrance filled his nose, and his inhale sucked in a few petals with his breath, tickling his chin with the petal tips. He glanced up at Ushijima and saw his eyes soften and his mouth stretch to the side, curving slightly up.

Shirabu directed his attention back down. "Thanks, Ushijima," he said, summoning as much sincerity and gratitude as he could into his quiet voice.

"You're welcome." Ushijima's head leaned to the side to signal acknowledgment, and he looked at Shirabu expectantly for a second, his hands twitching at his sides. Shirabu returned his gaze blankly.

Ushijima turned. He began walking again, and Shirabu fell into the same pace with him. They arrived at Shiratorizawa within minutes, already close to school from walking over.

"I'll see you Monday," Shirabu said. "Bye, Ushijima."

"Likewise, Shirabu." Ushijima walked down the hall to his room, and Shirabu headed upstairs, halting after unlocking the door. He didn't have a vase for the roses.

He sighed and placed them on the desk, next to the magnolia.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu spent more time outside with the receding summer fading into fall. The wind cooled and clouds swarmed the sun more, and summer flowers withdrew as the leaves blended into orange.

Shirabu rolled over in the grass.

"Get up, Kenjirou."

"No."

Tendou stepped around him to look at him. "Wakatoshi's looking for you."

Shirabu pushed himself up with his hands, sighing and clenching his hands into the grass. "You better be right."

Tendou waited for Shirabu to stand up before speaking again. "Now that you're up, where's Kawanishi?"

"Not here."

"Obviously. So, where is he?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know? Aren't you two friends?" Tendou asked.

"Maybe," Shirabu said dismissively. He dusted off his legs. "Where's Ushijima?"

"Not here."

"Don't just repeat what I said."

"It's annoying, huh?" Tendou managed to disguise his smugness, but Shirabu still heard it.

Shirabu lifted his head and stared at him. "Kawanishi is in the science building with Akayu and someone else to check on something."

"Which floor?"

"The second. Why don't you just call them?"

"I don't think they'd answer right away." Tendou waved his hand in the air. "Wakatoshi's with Eita near the cherry tree."

Shirabu made a wordless noise instead of thanking him. He started walking, and he ruffled his hands in his hair to comb out grass and twigs. He didn't finish fixing his hair, and by the time he found Ushijima and Semi, he had to remove his hands.

"Shirabu?" Semi asked. His voice and eyes lifted like he wanted to laugh.

"What?"

"Did you roll around in the dirt?"

Shirabu ducked his head and smoothed his hands over furiously. His eyes shot up to Ushijima to see if he noticed.

He was holding a small Japanese spitz puppy in his arms, his attention completely on its wriggling. Ushijima held it with its stomach up and half-curled into a ball.

"Whose dog is that?" Shirabu asked.

"Mine," Semi said. "I bring him once in a while. Wakatoshi likes seeing him, and he gets bored at home sometimes."

"I thought you lived far."

"A little, but my parents still dropped him off after practice."

Shirabu turned to stare at Ushijima, capitalizing on the excuse of looking at the puppy. Ushijima scratched at his head, his hand behind his ears and wandering to the middle of his head. The corners of Ushijima's mouth and eyes crinkled in a smile, bright and undeniable, and Shirabu's throat strangled down a noise.

Ushijima regarded Shirabu with a quick look. "Do you want to pet Yori?"

Shirabu nodded quietly and reached his hand onto Yori's head, sifting into the soft white fur. Yori yipped and lifted his tail. His wagging shook his whole body, kicking his feet with the momentum.

Yori kicked more and grew restless, barking small woofs and struggling to escape. Ushijima crouched to the floor, and as soon as Yori's paws touched the grass, he took off running in a circle around Semi, his tail wagging again.

"He doesn't want to be held anymore." Semi stooped down with a leash in his hands. "Yori, stop. Yori, come on," Semi crooned.

Ushijima glanced at Shirabu's hair. "Did you fall down a hill?"

Shirabu flattened his hands over his hair and smoothed it down. "No."

"What happened?"

Shirabu glanced side to side. "I was just lying in the grass."

"Where? I'll join you."

Shirabu's face relaxed. "You want to?"

"It's a Saturday. I have enough time to spend with you."

Shirabu gestured in the distance. "Near the trees over there."

"Let's lie under one, then."

Ushijima led them to sit down in a grassy area under a tree. He cleared away a few leaves and patted to check that there was enough grass to cushion and protect them from the dirt. The green leaves on the floor and in the trees mottled with the coming autumn, and the leaves still secure in the branches swayed with the wind. Ushijima dusted his hand on his arm, and after he repeated it and pressed his fingers in, Shirabu realized he was doing it in response to the chilled breeze.

"Are you cold?" Shirabu asked.

"Not that much. Autumn just started. I'll get colder later."

Shirabu remembered what he said about the air in the mall, and he thought that Ushijima would definitely get colder when winter came. Ushijima wasn't shivering now, but he still kept a hand on his arm, quietly offering the warmth of his palm.

Shirabu flopped over. "I didn't think you'd want to waste time like this."

"It's what you're doing, though."

Shirabu tugged on his shirt, and he grumbled. "We're not wasting time, then."

"Do you like wasting time?"

"Not if I don't get anything out of it."

"If there's no use from it, then it's automatically a waste."

"Relaxing isn't a waste." Shirabu rolled back over to face him, intent on seeing his reaction.

He found Ushijima balanced on his side, his hand lying on the grass and his head tilted down to address Shirabu. His deep gaze made Shirabu squirm a little.

"Lie on your back," Shirabu said. "You'll get sore staying like that for too long."

"I will?"

Shirabu took a pause to spin the thought through his head. "Probably."

Ushijima obeyed and shifted to rest on his back, grass rustling under him as another breeze rattled the tree branches. Shirabu felt he could finally relax, and he let his head drop on the ground in the silent moment. Ushijima's breathing evened, leveling at a quiet volume that was still loud enough to be heard. Shirabu eyed him out of the corner of his vision and watched his chest rise and fall. His broad chest and large strong shoulders, his mouth slightly open to breathe, and his hands bunched in the grass, fingers playing with a blade of grass.

Ushijima lifted his hand to absentmindedly scratch at his chest. Shirabu could tell that neither of them were tired, but he wished they were. Sleeping here would be a problem - and a potentially embarrassing one - if they lost track of time, but Shirabu didn't care.

Shirabu folded his arms behind his head and stared at the sky. The long tree branches and their leaves splintered the view, and Shirabu could only catch fragments of blue and white colors through them. He couldn't cloud watch from lying down under the tree. Shirabu kept returning to Ushijima instead, and he watched Ushijima study the leaves.

Another breeze blew, and Ushijima shifted again, his hand falling on his arm. Shirabu sighed.

"Next time, bring a jacket," Shirabu said.

Ushijima glanced and caught him staring. A rush of heat crawled up his neck, prickling at him and making his skin rise. He almost mistook the sensation for a spider creeping up his back, and he squirmed a bit, but he didn't succumb to the itch.

Ushijima bent his head and looked at Shirabu further. "You're warm."

"You're still cold."

"Semi's dog is also warm, but you don't struggle to escape like him."

"Hey, Wakatoshiiii!"

Shirabu's head shot up, and he scrambled to distance himself. He dusted himself off again and stood, and he saw Tendou and Kawanishi walking towards them.

Ushijima sat up slowly, his hair in a mess. Tendou came to a stop in front of them, his hands on his waist.

"There's a dog around here, and you're lazing around? Where's the real Wakatoshi?" Tendou eyed them both.

"Semi can barely control his dog. He's running around," Shirabu said.

Ushijima flicked a leaf off his chest. "And Yori's hard to hold."

"Boring!"

"Leave them alone, Tendou," Kawanishi complained.

Tendou's head jerked away, but his eyes fell back to Ushijima, and his head returned. "What were you doing? Sleeping?"

"No. We were just lying down."

"Oh? Why?"

"Shirabu wanted to."

Tendou and Kawanishi's eyebrows rose. "Kenjirou, you're weird."

"Why aren't you doing homework or playing video games or something else like you guys usually are?" Shirabu asked.

"We're not going to waste a whole weekend doing boring stuff." Tendou turned to Kawanishi.

"I have homework to do. See you on Monday." Kawanishi started walking away, and Tendou chased after him, his arms out for his hands.

Shirabu sighed. '"I should get going."

Ushijima stood up. "I enjoyed the time we spent together, Shirabu."

Shirabu bent his neck to the side to stretch it, and he met Ushijima's eyes. "I did, too."

Ushijima and Shirabu walked to the dorms together, and Shirabu remained silent.

 

* * *

 

 

Shirabu clasped his hand on his shoulder as he walked into the gym, kneading his shoulder and rolling it for a preliminary stretch. Ushijima wordlessly gravitated to him and stretched at his side.

After a few minutes, Shirabu swung his arms in one last loose stretch, and he went to the cart to pick up a volleyball. Ushijima walked to the net and waited for him, patiently standing and looking at him.

Shirabu tossed to him after Ushijima nodded. Shirabu sent a toss to the side, and Ushijima dutifully followed and spiked, crushing the ball down in a satisfying slam. Shirabu alternated the location of the next set, and they tossed and spiked back and forth for a few minutes, relying on silence to work through them before practice could start.

Tendou walked up to them and stopped at the sideline. "Wanna toss to me too, Kenjirou?"

"No."

"At least stop and think about it. What about now?"

"No." Shirabu pushed another set to Ushijima, and Tendou's eyes followed the ball.

Ushijima turned to them. "Tendou, you can block instead. Shirabu needs the practice."

Tendou walked around the net. "Practice?"

"The spring high preliminaries are almost here," Ushijima explained. "Even if we aren't participating in prelims, we're going to have a lot of practice matches. Shirabu might help toss for one. Semi will inevitably tire from tossing too much."

"You have a point." Tendou shrugged his hands in the air. "Give me your best shot then, Kenjirou. Push him to his limit."

"Practice hasn't started," Shirabu said. "I'm not going to wear him out."

"I didn't mean literally."

"Then what did you mean?" Ushijima asked.

"It's an impressive thing to say. Don't you have a catchphrase, Wakatoshi?"

Ushijima looked at him. "No."

"You two are too alike." Tendou flicked his hand dismissively. "Just toss."

Shirabu tossed to Ushijima again and sent the ball up into a narrow arc. Shirabu steeled himself for the block, but Ushijima tore through. Tendou's arms swung back from the spike.

"You're getting better, Kenjirou. Wakatoshi's success rate went up."

"He's right. I appreciate your hard work."

Shirabu's arms straightened at his sides, and he ducked a little, his eyes blinking several times.

"Toss to me now," Tendou said.

Shirabu recovered. "Later." He stooped to pick up the volleyball off the floor.

"I don't know what that means. After practice?"

"Later means at any point in the future," Ushijima said.

"Don't help him, Wakatoshi."

Shirabu sent another toss without warning, and Tendou fumbled to block it in time. He could only manage one hand in the ball's path, and the ball blew past his hand.

Tendou clapped his hands together to shake off the sting. "I wasn't ready!"

"Sorry," Shirabu said flatly.

They resumed tossing and spiking, and they moved on to the start of practice once Washijou got their attention. Shirabu jogged with Ushijima to warm up, huffing and struggling to breathe around the burn in his lungs. He ended up trailing behind, and Ushijima didn't slow down for him. At the end of the jog he coughed and wobbled to the wall, stretching his hands out to rest on it.

Ushijima handed him his water bottle. Shirabu gulped down water and gasped a breath.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Ushijima walked away to set their bottles down.

Shirabu watched him as he wiped at his mouth and over his head. Ushijima's back was featureless in a plain practice jersey, but his shoulders shaped the top of it, filling it out in a stretch of muscle that Shirabu's eyes traced from side to side. Shirabu glanced away and waited for him to return.

 

* * *

 

Shirabu climbed into bed, pushing his books to the side to give himself room to jump up. He still kept going to the library, but tonight he only had reading to do, and he could do it in the convenient comfort of his room. He left the windows open for the breeze, and the wind blew in at a cool fall chill, rustling some of the pages of an open book on his desk and leaving the pages flapping.

Shirabu fortified the headboard with pillows and saved one for his lap, tugging a sheet over his legs and resting his hands on the pillow with the book's weight.

Shirabu expected Ushijima to drop by, and he left the door unlocked waiting for him. He didn't startle this time, an hour into reading by himself, as Ushijima opened the door and stood on the threshold.

"Shirabu?"

Shirabu lowered his book. "I'm not sick anymore. You don't have to keep visiting me."

"I know you're not sick." Ushijima closed the door and walked inside, frowning as he turned to the window. "The weather's getting colder. Doesn't it bother you?"

"No."

"You're covered in pillows and blankets."

"There's only one pillow," Shirabu said, thumping the one in his lap, "and one thin flimsy sheet." He flicked the edge of it, and it flew up and slowly floated back down.

Ushijima tugged at the window and slid it closed. The low quiet billow of wind cut off, and Shirabu fumbled with his sheet to stand and stalk over to him.

"Leave it open." Shirabu yanked it back down.

Ushijima frowned again. The distressed wrinkle in his nose and small twist to his mouth accompanied his movement to the bed.

"Do you want a blanket?" Shirabu asked.

"Yes, please."

Ushijima reached for his bed as Shirabu opened his closet and dug out the neglected blanket, and he shook it to unfold it and knock off dust. He turned and found Ushijima sitting in the middle of his bed, relocating his books to the nightstand and rummaging around for a grip on the sheet. Shirabu's arms stilled.

"Don't take the entire bed." Shirabu threw the blanket over Ushijima and let him arrange it over himself. Ushijima wasn't shivering, but he accepted the blanket gratefully, and he pulled it to his shoulders.

Shirabu sat on the side of the bed. "Can you give me some space?"

"Sorry. Is this better?" Ushijima slid away, and he looked at Shirabu expectantly.

"It's enough." Shirabu shimmied closer and wrenched the sheet free to cover himself.

"If you're not cold, why do you need it?"

Shirabu tightened his hand on the sheet. "I always do it. I need my legs covered." Shirabu's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to come. I finished at the library and came here."

"Are Kawanishi and Tendou still there?"

"With Semi and Reon, yes."

Shirabu shifted in his seat. His book on the nightstand tempted him, but he couldn't reach for it without crawling over Ushijima. He settled for staring at his pillow, and he bent his knees up to dislodge the pillow closer.

"The spring high preliminaries are approaching," Ushijima said. "Are you prepared for them?"

"I've been practicing with you. Of course I am." Shirabu continued to stare into his pillow, uncomfortable with the lack of activity. He wanted to at least pretend to be busy.

"Do you want to run tomorrow morning?" Ushijima asked.

"Before practice? That's early."

"You've run with me before. Several times."

"If I can finish this tonight and go to bed early, then I'll wake up early to run," Shirabu said. He intended it to be a dismissal.

"I'll stop talking, then." Ushijima settled back and fell quiet.

Shirabu couldn't bring himself to directly kick him out, and he forced himself to read, at a much slower speed than usual. He was too aware of Ushijima watching him, and he felt Ushijima's faint breath warm his shoulder, cycling at a predictable rhythm and touching his shirt with the pressure. Shirabu guessed that Ushijima turned so he could read with him, but he didn't check.

"You still have the flowers," Ushijima acknowledged quietly. Shirabu lifted his head and followed his gaze to the desk, to the magnolia and roses lying beside his pencils.

"I don't know what to do with them," Shirabu admitted.

"I can show you how to preserve flowers by pressing them, if you'd like."

"Maybe this weekend." Shirabu shifted and slouched in the pillows, raising his book above his head to read from a different angle. Ushijima imitated him and slid down beside him. Shirabu gave in and indulged him, saying nothing else.

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Shirabu woke up early for a morning run with Ushijima. Shirabu climbed down the stairs and found Ushijima already waiting outside, standing near the door with his hands resting at his sides.

"Were you waiting long?" Shirabu asked. He folded his arms in and out and stretched them, and he repeated it with his legs, bending his foot up and switching to repeat. Ushijima did the same beside him.

"No. You're on time." Ushijima lightly pulled on the sleeves of his jacket to extend the fabric to his wrists. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"Where's your jacket?"

"I don't need one. It's not cold enough."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive, Ushijima-san." Shirabu rubbed at his eyes, forcing the sleepiness out of them and compelling himself to fully wake up.

"You look tired."

"I'm always tired." Shirabu shifted on his feet. "Come on, let's go." He started walking, and Ushijima caught up in a few quick strides.

Shirabu glanced at him once in a while. Ushijima stared ahead and unaware. His pace was as steady as ever, and his arms swung in a light rhythm near Shirabu's chest level. He kept even breaths with his open mouth and occasionally licked his lips.

Shirabu swallowed and mimicked him, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them repeatedly. The back of his throat itched with dryness, and he felt hot and thirsty, even though he drank water before he left and the sun had barely risen in the sky.

They continued jogging around the school, touring the sidewalk around a field behind the dorm building. They turned away from the main street to avoid traffic lights and cars. Without the sun, the sky still remained grey and dark, grey from the misty low clouds that almost clung to the ground like fog. Shirabu heard it could rain soon, but he knew that wouldn't happen today.

Shirabu occasionally brought his hands together and cracked his fingers, but he did it quietly to avoid Ushijima. He swallowed again and caught another glimpse of Ushijima's arms, and his eyes trailed the edge of them up to his shoulder, admiring the red color trimming the sleeves and his collar. If Shirabu needed to wear a jacket, he'd want to wear his own team jacket to match. Ushijima's sweats had the same colors and scheme, and Shirabu's eyes fell to his waist to skim down them. He realized he was starting to drift behind from the distraction, and he looked back up and skipped ahead.

Ushijima glanced at him. "Do you want to rest?"

Shirabu automatically slowed. "No, but slowing down is fine," he managed between breaths.

Ushijima leaned back to match him, straightening from his previous speed. They finished the rest of the run as a light jog and came to a gradual stop in front of the dorms. Shirabu let out a large sigh and wiped his hands over his arms, testing and feeling the warmth in them. His chest continued to heave with his deep breaths until he gathered air back into his lungs.

"I told you I didn't need a jacket," Shirabu said.

"I'm sorry I underestimated you."

"Don't worry, it's not a big deal." Shirabu dragged his hand over his forehead and neck, and his skin thrummed with heat and sweat in return.

They walked to the gym building together and separated to change in the locker room. When they both returned to the court, they drifted back together and eased into loose stretches.

"Do you always wake up so early?" Shirabu asked.

"Yes. Why?"

Shirabu rolled his shoulders up in a shrug. "Everyone's different, I guess. I'd rather stay awake at night."

Ushijima's mouth curled. Shirabu laughed into his hand. His arm bent out of the stretch, and he ended up turning away to avoid Ushijima's eye.

"You look really offended, Ushijima."

"I'm not."

Ushijima continued to frown, and Shirabu had to force himself to move on. He squeezed the back of his neck and twisted it to crack it. Ushijima's frown deepened.

Semi joined them when he spotted them, and he began stretching. "You look tired, Shirabu."

"I'm not."

"I already told him," Ushijima said. "After he ran with me this morning."

"Are you kidding? Do you even like Shirabu?"

"Of course I am. I'm very fond of him."

Shirabu slid his eyes away and coughed.

"I find that hard to believe. Shirabu's probably exhausted," Semi said.

Shirabu's hand moved past his neck to his back. "We didn't run the whole way. We slowed down."

"Wakatoshi slowed down for you?" Semi's arms paused in a stretch above his head. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you surprised?" Shirabu asked.

"I'd like to know, as well."

Semi's arms dropped. "It's nothing. Nothing I'd expect, anyway..."

Ushijima resumed stretching, but Shirabu just went through the motions, his mind on Semi's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Magnolias mean natural in hanakotoba. Magnolia trees take 10+ years to grow before they can bloom. 
> 
> 2\. Camellias mean waiting/longing in hanakotoba.
> 
> 3\. White roses mean loyalty.
> 
> I ended up scrapping a small thing since a char name I was going to use ended up becoming a name of an actual shiratorizawa character, and I dropped it altogether. thanks...furudate...

**Author's Note:**

> (General A/N that exists at the end of all my fics): I find unsolicited concrit really rude, I'm not looking for any. Please don't tell me someone was OOC/something happened you didn't like/it's too short/etc. in any bookmarks or comments.


End file.
